Pythia Jackson
by Ivyhunter10
Summary: Pythia has lived her entire life believing she was normal (well minus the fainting spells). When a class trip turns awry and her Mom takes her to a Camp for Half-Bloods? Well, maybe she wasn't so normal after all. Warning: Fem!percy, legacy!percy, and a few other things you'll have to read to find out. Don't want to spoil it for you.
1. My Pre-Algebra Teacher Turns to Dust

**Disclaimer: I own NOTHING! Percy Jackson and the Olympians is the amazing work of Rick Riordan, not me!**

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Chapter I: My Pre-Algebra Teacher Turns to Dust

My name is Pythia Jackson.

I know, Pythia, what kind of name is that? So, usually I just go by Perse.

Until a few months ago, I thought I was a normal 6th grader going to Yancy academy. Which is a boarding school in upstate New York for troubled kids.

Am I a troubled kid?

Yes, yes I am. In more ways than you could possibly imagine.

I could show you any point in my life as an example, but last May... Last May was definitely the turning-point of my life. From what could be considered normal, into the odd, weird, and plain-out strange events that were to follow.

My class went on a field trip to Manhattan, all twenty-eight of us, more or less mental-case kids with our two teacher-supervisors. Cram-packed into a yellow school bus. Headed to the Metropolitan Museum of Art to look at Greek and Roman artifacts.

I know - it sounds like a bore-feast. Most Yancy field-trips are, but my Latin teacher, Mr. Brunner, was heading this trip. So, I had a bit of hope.

At first glance, Mr. Brunner was a normal, middle-aged guy, in a motorized wheelchair. Who just so happened to be an amazing teacher. But, something (I guess you could call it gut instinct) told me there was a part of himself he kept hidden. I just couldn't tell what. Sometimes, when I was really bored, I imagined Mr. Brunner as a rock-star, then got sent to the hall for laughing in the middle of class.

The bus ride there was terrible, I had to deal with Nancy Bobofit. Also known as, my chief tormentor. She was continuously throwing chunks of her peanut-butter and ketchup sandwich into my friend Grover's hair. Normally, I would have stopped after the first piece, but I was on probation. Before we left on trip, the Headmaster had pulled me aside, and warned me, that if any thing, and I quote '...bad, embarrassing, or mildly entertaining occurs...' on this trip, I was to face death.

By in-school suspension, that is.

Even if it wasn't my fault.

Knowing my luck with field trips though, it probably would be. Bad things always happen to me, or around me, on field trips. Like at my fifth-grade school, when we went to the Saratoga battlefield. I had this incident with a Revolutionary war cannon. I hadn't been aiming for the school bus, but I got expelled anyway.

Before that, at my fourth-grade school, when we took a behind-the-scenes of the Marine-world shark pool. I had one of my 'fainting spells'. Apparently, I hit a lever, and well... We all took a bit of an unplanned swim with the fishes. Luckily, none of us were wearing our favourite pair of cement shoes. Now that would have been a disaster.

"I'm going to kill her." I mumbled, Grover tried to calm me down. "It's okay, I like peanut-butter."

He dodged another piece of peanut-butter.

"That's it." As I started to stand-up, Grover pulled me back into my seat.

"You're already on probation," He reminded me, "You know who'll get blamed if anything happens,"

Looking back on it, I kind of wish I had decked Nancy right then, and there. In school-suspension would've been nothing compared to the mess I was about to get myself into.

Then again, I doubt it would've helped at all.

Mr. Brunner led the tour through the echoing halls. Stopping and talking about every other statue. I tried to listen, but his voice was drowned out by the other students talking and Mrs. Dodds' piercing glare.

Mrs. Dodds was our math teacher. A mean looking (and acting) old lady that seemed to have a grudge against me. I don't even know why. She just showed up about halfway through the school year. And instantly she adored Nancy, and tried to make my life a living Hades.

"Hades? Why did I think that?" I mumbled, but before I could think more about it, Mr. Brunner asked. "Ms. Jackson, do you have a comment?"

I blushed red. 'He heard me?'

"No sir." He pointed to one of the paintings on the steles. "Perhaps, you can tell us what this picture shows."

I took one look at the frieze, and instantly knew what it was. At the same time, I could feel one of my 'fainting spells' coming on. I tried to blink it away, and said. "That's Kronos, the king of the titans, eating his kids."

"Yes," Mr. Brunner said, obviously not satisfied. "And he did this because..."

Blinking, I struggled to keep my vision from fading to black. "H-he received... a prophecy... that his children, the gods, would overthrow him. In his fear, he ate them. But his wife, Rhea, hid their youngest child, Zeus."

I clenched my eyes shut, trying to drive the dizziness away, "Instead, giving Kronos a rock to eat. Zeus grew up, one day he gave his father a mixture of mustard and-and ambrosia to eat."

The dizziness got so strong I nearly blacked-out, I don't know how but I continued to stand up straight. "Kronos threw up his children, there was a great war, and the gods won." I looked him in the eyes, then quickly looked away. His eyes… They had this feeling to them, old and weary, like he had seen far, far too much. Felt far too much, and was just bracing for another blow.

"Pythia—"

"Mr. Brunner, I have to go to the bathroom." I said before racing off. Interrupting whatever he was about to say.

When I reached the bathroom, I had just enough time to notice it was empty (lucky me!), before I blacked-out.

I don't know what happens when I black-out, but whatever it is, causes my Mom to worry every time. When I wake up, she always has a scared look on her face, which turns pasty-white. Sometimes, she even says curse words in Latin, though I don't know how I know that. When I was really young, before she married Smelly Gabe, she made me promise to never have a fainting spell/black-out, whatever they are, in front of anyone.

I haven't broken that promise yet.

Mom, looked so relieved after I made it. I don't want to worry her. She's such a sweet lady, and an awesome mom, but she's got so much on her plate. Just taking that little bit of worry off it is the least I can do.

I was splashing water on my face, something I'll do after a black-out, when I got a gut feeling of...wrongness. There's no other way to explain it. Something was very, very wrong.

"Honey," I jumped, before turning to face the source of the voice. It was Mrs. Dodds. "You've been giving us problems."

"I'm so sorry, I just really had to go to the bath-"

"Did you think you could get away with it?" She said, tugging at the sleeves of her leather jacket. The look she was giving me wasn't just mad. It was evil.

"What do you mean? Get away with what?" I was confused.

The building shook as thunder boomed outside.

"Pythia Jackson," My name came out of her mouth like a death sentence."We are not fools. It was only a matter of time before we found you out. Confess, and you will suffer less pain. Fail to do so, and it will be excruciating." She said, with a sadistic kind of joy.

Found out? About what?

Did the teachers find out about the secret candy stash I had been selling out of my dorm? Was it my internet-found Tom Sawyer essay, and were going to take my mark? Worse yet, force me to read the book?

"Well?" She demanded.

"Mrs. Dodds, what are—"

"You're time is up." She hissed, literally hissed.

Then the weirdest thing happened. Her eyes began to glow, like burning wood timbers. Her fingers stretching into talons, as her leather jacket expanded into a pair of large wings. She wasn't human. She was a... was a... One look at her mouth full of razor sharp teeth, ready to turn me into Pythia-spaghetti, and the words seemed to echo in my head.

 _'Beware the teacher in disguise,_

 _Her true-self revealed as the sky cries,_

 _Misled and beseeched with lies,_

 _Upon leathered wings, she will rise.'_

She was a fury.

I was going to die.

"What ho Pythia!" Mr. Brunner's shout woke me from my dazed state. Then he tossed me a pen.

Mrs. Dodds, lunged at me.

With a yelp, I dodged. Feeling her talons slash the air beside my ear. I grabbed the ball-point pen out of the air.

Only, it wasn't a pen anymore.

It was a sword

Mrs. Dodds spun towards me with a murderous look in her eyes. I felt a weird twisting feeling in my gut, almost like a whirlpool.

She snarled." Die honey!"

Then she flew, on her leathery wings. She was up, off the ground by at least four feet (I was amazed she didn't hit her head on the ceiling), and she was coming straight at me.

So, I did what seemed to be the most natural thing to me.

I swung the sword.

The bronze blade hit her shoulder, and passed clean threw her body, as if she were made of water. _Hiss!_

Mrs. Dodds was like a poorly built sand castle on a windy day. She exploded into a yellow powder, vaporized on the spot. Leaving nothing behind but the smell of sulfur, and a chill of evil in the air. As if those two glowing red eyes were still glaring at me, promising pain. Then I noticed...

I was alone.

There was a ball point pen in my hand.

Mr. Brunner wasn't there. Nobody was there but me.

And a running faucet.

For a brief moment, I wondered if I had imagined it all. But, just like in Grade 3, when I saw a man in the play-ground with only one eye in the middle of his head. I knew it wasn't.

When I went back outside, it was raining.

I saw Grover, sitting by the fountain, a museum map tented over his head.

"So, what happened while I was gone?"

Grover shrugged. "Nothing much. Mrs. uh, Kerr went to go look for you though."

"Mrs. Kerr?" I asked, we didn't have a teacher named Mrs. Kerr.

"Yeah, Mrs. Kerr, our math teacher."Grover responded, but he had paused before saying her name both times. He was looking at the side-walk too. Avoiding eye-contact with me. I thought he was messing about.

"Ha ha, Grover, very funny." I said, "But this is serious."

Thunder clapped over head.

See, even the rain clouds agreed with me.

I saw Mr. Brunner sitting off to the side, near the entrance to the museum, reading a book, under his red umbrella.

I walked over to him. If Grover wanted to mess with me, then fine. Mr. Brunner wouldn't buy into this little game. Besides, he was there, he could explain to me what was going on.

He looked up, a little distracted. "Ah, that would be my pen. Please bring your own writing utensil in the future, Ms. Jackson." I handed Mr. Brunner his pen.

"Sir," I said." What happened to Mrs. Dodds?"

All he did was stare at me blankly. "Who?"

'Mrs. Dodds, the other chaperone."

He frowned and sat forward, looking mildly concerned.

"Pythia, there is no Mrs. Dodds on this trip. As far as I know, there has never been a Mrs. Dodds at Yancy Academy. Are you feeling alright?"

If that was so, then what had I seen?


	2. Three old Ladies Knit the Socks of Fate

**Disclaimer: I own nothing! Nada! Zip, zilch, zero!**

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Chapter 2: Three old Ladies Knit the Socks of Fate

Now, I'm used to occasional odd experiences, but usually they don't last long. This twenty four seven hallucination that Mrs. Dodds never existed, was a bit more than I could chew. For the rest of the school year, the entire campus seemed to be playing some kind of joke on me. Everyone acted as if they were completely and totally convinced that Mrs. Kerr - a perky, blonde woman whom I'd never seen in my life before she got on our bus at the end of the field-trip - had been our Pre-algebra teacher since Christmas.

Every so often I would spring a Mrs. Dodds reference on somebody, just to see if I could get them to crack. They would just stare at me like I had grew another head. Every. Single. Time.

It was starting to get to me. Maybe, I was hallucinating things. Maybe Mrs. Dodds was a figment of my imagination. A nightmare dreamed up by my sub-conscious.

But Grover could never fool me. He's the worst liar I know. Whenever I mentioned Mrs. Dodds around him, he would hesitate before answering. Claiming she didn't exist.

Something was going on, and it had to do with whatever happened at the museum.

I didn't have much time to think about it during the days, but at night, I would have nightmares. Monsters and creatures, like Mrs. Dodds, dreamed up by my subconscious, and they were all trying to kill me.

The freaky weather continued, and worsened, almost as if it were throwing a temper tantrum. One night a thunder storm blew out the windows in the boys dorms. One of the biggest tornadoes in years touched down fifty miles from Yancy Academy, a few days later.

I started to feel more cranky and irritated. I hadn't had a fainting spell for a while. Not since the museum.

I got into more fights with Nancy and her goons. Sent out into the halls more and more. Finally, one day, when Mr. Nicoll, my English teacher, asked me why I wasn't studying for the spelling exam. For what was maybe the thousandth time. I snapped and called him an old sot.

I'm not 100% sure what that means, but something told me to say it. It was kind of like an 'if you're going to say something that will get you in trouble, say this' feeling.

A week later, the Headmaster phoned my Mom. I was officially not returning to Yancy Academy next year.

'Alright,' I told myself. 'Just fine. I never really liked it here.'

I was homesick.

Truthfully, I had liked it here. The view out my window, near the Hudson River. The smell of pine trees. Latin class (the only one I actually studied for), and Grover. Who, despite everything, was still my best friend.

The night before the final, I got so frustrated I threw my 'Cambridge Guide to Greek Mythology' across my dorm room.

Not only had he words started surfing off the page, but I could just about feel another 'fainting spell' coming along.

Blinking it off, I managed to pull myself together. Picking up my textbook, I decided to do something I had never done before. I... was going to ask a teacher for help. Mr. Brunner expected so much out of me... I didn't want him to think I hadn't tried at all. At the very least, I could apologize for failing his class. Conjugating the Latin wasn't as ahrd as some of my classmates thought, but I couldn't tell the difference between Chiron and Charon, or Poly... Poly... gah! I can't even remember their names!

I walked downstairs to the faculty offices. All of the rooms were dark and empty. Except for Mr. Brunner's, his door was slightly ajar, light from his window dancing across the hallway. Voices echoing from the other side.

I didn't want to interrupt, but I needed help, whoever he was talking to should be able to understand. They were probably there for the same reason.

When I was three steps from the door handle, I heard who was talking "... I'm worried about Pythia, sir."

It was Grover.

Any small, minuscule doubts I had about eavesdropping were flushed away. I inched forward, so I could here them better.

"...alone this summer," Grover was saying. "I mean, a kindly one, in the school! Now that we know for sure, and they know too-"

"We would only make matters worse by rushing her." Mr. Brunner said, "She needs to mature more."

"But there won't be time. The summer solstice deadline-"

"Will have to be resolved without her, Grover. Let her enjoy her ignorance while she still can."

"Sir, she _saw_ her."

"A figure of the imagination," Mr. Brunner insisted." The mist over the students and staff will convince her of that."

"Sir, I... I can't fail in my duties again." Grover's voice was choked with emotion. "You know what that would mean."

"You haven't failed Grover," Mr. Brunner said kindly. "I should have seen her for what she really was. Noe, let's just worry about making sure Pythia stays alive. Come it's time for us to sleep. You've got a long day of exams tomorrow."

They started to move towards the door. I silently started making my way back to my dorm. For a brief moment, a shadow slide across the lit glass of Mr. Brunner's office door. A shadow of something much taller than Grover or my wheel-chair bound teacher.

When I reached my dorm room, I could feel the black-out coming, stronger than before. It was a good thing my dorm room buddy, Sarah, was such a heavy-sleeper. I didn't need to worry about her waking up.

Not bothering to change my clothes, I laid down on my bed. My head hurt too much to bother changing them. It was a good thing too, because just as I did, I was out like a broken light bulb.

The next day, as I was leaving after finishing my three... hour...long...Latin exam. Mr. Brunner called my name. "Yes, sir?" I said he didn't see me last night. At least, I don't think he did. So what was this about?

"Pythia," He said kindly. "Don't be sad about leaving Yancy. It's... for the best." He probably didn't mean for it too come out like that, but it still embarrassed me. As quietly as he tried to speak, all the kids still taking their tests could hear. Nancy looked at me, then started making little kissy faces with her mouth. I just glared back at her.

"I didn't mean it like that. Pythia... this isn't the right place for you-"

"I get it Mr. Brunner," I stared at him straight in the eyes. " I know what you mean. I've never fit in at any of the schools I went to. With my record..." I looked out the window, thinking about when I was younger. "With my record, it was only a matter of time. At least I made it the school year. I've done worse before." I turned around and left.

It was the last day of term, as I was packing my clothes, I could hear the other girls in the hall. They were all chatting about where they were going on vacation. One of them was going to Switzerland, with her brother. Another to London, England, to visit some Great-Aunt's mansion in the country-side.

There was a big difference of them and myself. Everyone at this school was a troubled, or troublesome, kid. They were all rich, I, was not. When they asked what I was doing, I told them I was going back home, to the city.

I didn't tell them I had to get a summer job walking dogs, or babysitting. All the while worrying about where I was going to school in the fall.

"That's nice." One of the girls, Meagan I think, said.

They all went back to their conversation, as if I'd never existed.

The only person I was dreading saying good-bye too, was Grover.

It turned out, I didn't have to. He had booked a ticket to Manhattan on the same bus I had. I was kind of excited, now I actually had someone to talk to on the ride home.

During the ride back, Grover kept on looking around at the other passengers. I don't know why I hadn't noticed it before, maybe I was just more suspicious of Grover since the incident a few nights ago? Anyway, it was something he did whenever we left Yancy Academy. I thought he was just nervous about being teased. Now though? I didn't know quite what to think.

Eventually, I had enough.

"Looking for kindly ones?"

Grover jumped so high he nearly hit the roof. "W-what do you mean?"

I wanted answers, not more questions. So I told him about the night I had overheard him And Mr. Brunner talking.

Grover's eye twitched. "How much did you overhear?"

"Maybe a minute or so, what's the summer solstice deadline?" I gave him a pointed look.

He winced. "Pythia... I was just worried about you. Daydreaming about demonic math teachers..."

"Grover-"

"I was telling Mr. Brunner that maybe you were over-stressed or something, because there was no such person as Mrs. Dodds, and..."

I looked at him blankly. "Grover, I know that you're lying."

His ears turned pink.

He fumbled with his shirt pocket, before fishing out a grubby business card. "Take this, in case you need me this summer."

The card was in a fancy script, which was torture on my dyslexic eyes.

Finally, I managed to read:

 _Grover Underwood_

 _Keeper_

 _Half-blood Hill_

 _Long Island, New York_

 _(800) 009-0009_

I was confused.

"What's Half-"

"Don't say it out-loud!" He yelped, hand covering my mouth. "That's my... um... summer address."

I don't know why, but that made me sad. I'd never realized that Grover may be as rich as the other kids.

"Alright," I turned away. "So I can come hang-out at your mansion."

"No, Pythia - just in-in case you need me."

"What do you mean?"

Grover looked really nervous. "Pythia... the truth is, I-I kind of have to protect you."

I raised an eyebrow.

All year long, I had gotten into fights over kids picking on him. Worried that he was getting wedgied when I was gone. Yet, he was supposed to protect me? From what?

Monsters like Mrs. Dodds?

The image of Grover battling Mrs. Dodds was kind of amusing. I could imagine her saying 'Die honey!' and him jerking around, looking for the 'honey'.

I shook my head, I had to stay focused. I had to ask him what he had meant.

Before I could, the bus shuttered, and black smoke came rising out from the dashboard. The smell of rotting eggs trailing right behind it. The driver cursed, bringing the bus to a stop at the side of the road.

After a few minutes, he announced that we'd have to get off. Whatever clanking around he had done in the engine compartment hadn't worked.

We were on a stretch of country road - somewhere you wouldn't think twice about. On one side of us were maple trees, lots of them, and litter from passing cars. Grover didn't look happy about it.

Across the four-lanes of traffic, was an old-fashioned fruit stand, simmering in the afternoon heat.

The fruit looked really good too: heaping boxes of blood-red cherries and apples, walnuts and apricots. To the side were large jugs of cider, surrounded by ice.

No customers were there, just three old ladies, knitting a pair of giant socks. Seriously, these socks looked like they could swallow one of them whole and still have room inside. They were all ancient-looking. They had the same look in their eyes as Mr. Brunner did sometimes. Like they had seen the world change, empires fall and grow, multiple times. The two on the outside were both knitting, the one in the middle was holding a massive ball of electric-blue yarn.

They were all staring at me. I turned towards Grover, he was sweating waves, pale as a sheet, and His nose was twitching.

"Grover what-"

"Tell me they aren't looking at you. They are, aren't they?"

"I wonder who they're knitting those for, Sasquatch or Godzilla."

"Not funny Pythia, not funny at all." I heard Grover catch his breath.

As the old lady in the middle took out a huge pair of scissors - gold and silver, long-bladed, like shears. Suddenly, I felt dizzy.

'No, not now,' I thought. 'Not in front of all these people.' Somebody was listening, apparently, because the dizziness stopped as soon as it had started.

Across the road, the old ladies smiled.

"Come on," Grover said. "We're getting on the bus."

"What?" I said. "It's steaming in there!"

"Come on!" He pried the doors open and climbed inside, but I stayed back.

Across the road, the old ladies still had their watchful gaze on me.

The middle one cut the yarn, and I swear you could hear that _snip_ across four lanes of traffic. Her sisters balled up the electric blue socks.

Bang!

My head whipped towards the source of the noise. The driver had just wrenched a big chunk of metal out of the engine compartment. The engine roared back to life as the bus shuddered.

The passengers cheered.

"Darn right!" The bus driver yelled. He slapped the bus with his hat. "Every body back on board!"

Once we got going, I started to feel dizzy again. Not 'fainting spell' dizzy, but 'I got caught in a whirlpool' dizzy.

Grover didn't look much better. He was shivering and his teeth were chattering.

"Grover?"

"Yeah?"

"What is it you're not telling me?"

He dabbed his forehead with his sleeve. "Pythia, what did you see at the fruit stand?"

"Three old ladies, two of them were knitting socks. Then, the third one took out her shears and snipped the yarns' cord."

He closed his eyes and made a gesture with his fingers that might have been crossing himself, but it wasn't. It was different... older.

He turned to look me in the eyes. "You saw her snip the cord."

"It was pretty easy to see."

"This is not happening." Grover mumbled, turning away. He started gnawing at his thumb. "Please, don't let this be like last time."

"Grover?"

"Always sixth grade. They never make it past sixth."

"Grover," Just what was going on? "What's going on?"

"Let me walk you home from the bus station, promise me."

He looked back at me, sad, desperate, like he knew what was going on and didn't want to accept it. That whatever was going to happen was inevitable.

And he knew it.

So I promised him.

"Grover, that snipping of the yarn... Does that mean someone's going to die?"

He wouldn't look at me.

"Grover, I'm not going to die."

He didn't seem to believe me.


	3. The Truth of Grover's 'Disease'

**Disclaimer: I own nothing!**

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Chapter 3: The Truth of Grover's 'Disease'

Confession time: I just about ditched Grover.

He was really scaring me, with the way he kept looking at me as if I was going to drop dead any second.

But I don't break my promises.

I was excited to see my mom again. The last time I saw her was during Christmas break.

My mom, Sally Jackson, is the kindest, nicest, most patient lady I know. In other words, she's awesome.

She's also living proof that the best people, have the worst luck.

When she was younger, she wanted to be a writer, all throughout High school she worked. So that she could get into a University with a good creative-writing program.

Then, when she was in Grade 12, her Uncle Rick got cancer. She had been living with him since her parents died in a plane crash when she was five. So, she dropped out of school to help take care of him. He ended up dying, and she was left with nothing. No family, no money, and no diploma.

Years later, she met my father. She loved him, a lot. They weren't married though. He was rich and important. His family wouldn't have of approved of her. So, their relationship was a secret. One day he left on a sea voyage. He was never seen again. 'Lost at sea,' Mom would say. 'Not dead, lost at sea.'

She still misses him to this very day.

I don't remember much of my father, just a warm glow, maybe a smile. Mom doesn't talk about him a lot. Almost never in front of my step-father.

I was not excited to see _him_ again.

His name is Gabe Ugliano, and he is the most disgusting pig I have ever had the misfortune of meeting.

When I was younger, I nicknamed him Smelly Gabe, and trust me it fits him to a T. He reeks of mouldy garlic pizza, even after a shower (when he actually has one, that is).

He hates me, and I hate him.

Why? Well, you'll see in a second.

"Grover," I said, outside the door to my apartment. "I just want to warn you. My step-father is not a nice man."

I opened the door and walked in, hoping my mom would be home from work.

She wasn't.

Instead, Gabe was there, on the couch, playing poker with his buddies. ESPN blared on the TV screen. Chips and beer cans laid everywhere.

"So you're home." He mouthed around his cigar.

"Where's Mom?"

"At work," he replied. "Ya got any cash?"

Gabe had put on so much weight that he looked like a tusk-less walrus. The three lone hairs on his head wee brushed across. A failed attempt at a comb-over.

He was the manager at the Electronics Mega-mart in Queens. Which is amazing, seeing as all he ever did was laze about at home, and collect pay checks. Spending them all on his nauseating cigars and beer. Always beer. Whenever I was home he expected me to pay for his gambling. He called it out 'little secret', meaning if I told Mom, he would punch my lights out, or worse.

Apparently, I took too long to respond, because he turned towards me...and Grover.

"Who's this, your little 'buddy'?" The way he said 'buddy' was clearly in reference to something rated over PG-13.

"He's my friend." I said sternly.

Gabe's eyes narrowed. "Really... I didn't know you were allowed friends over." He got up and started coming towards us. "In fact, I believe you aren't allowed any over, at all."

"Gabe, just let off for once. I'm sure he won't be here for long." Eddie, the superintendent of the apartment building, said.

"Y-yeah, only for a little wh-" Grover was cut off by Smelly Gabe grabbing his shirt.

"I don't believe you."

"Please, Mr. Ja-"

Did I ever tell you that my mom has good timing? No, well she does, because just as Grover was about to get socked in the face she came through the door.

"I'm home!"

Gabe settled for shoving him against the wall, saying, "It's Ugliano, punk. Now scram."

We took that opportunity and scurried of to my room. He used to convert it to his 'study' when I was gone. Then, when I turned eleven, my mom told him it wasn't appropriate for a grown man to be in a developing young woman's room. After a few bribes, and some encouragement from his pals, she managed to get him to agree.

"I'm so sorry Grover. Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine 'thia," He said nodding his head. "You weren't kidding, he's nasty."

I smirked. "If his smell doesn't tell you that his face sure will."

We both laughed quietly.

My mom opened the door. "Pythia." She said, with a smile on her face.

Just seeing her brightened up my day. I could almost forget about the near disaster with Grover.

The instant she saw Grover beside me, that smile vanished. She looked scared, not of Grover, but of what his presence meant.

"Pythia what happened..."

"Smelly Gabe almost-"

"No! Not that, at school."

Before I could answer, Grover said. "She was attacked by a kindly one."

'A kindly one?' I thought. 'What is a- did he mean the fury?'

Mom looked down at the ground. "She has to leave now, doesn't she?" Her voice was heavy.

"Yes, Mrs. Jackson, I'm afraid so, and we have to hurry. Something's caught her scent."

"Now I smell? Just what is going on? Does this have to do with Mrs. Dodds, and my... fainting spells?" I whispered the last part, so that only Mom, who was closest to me, could hear. She nodded her head, then sat down next to me on my bed. Staring at the palms of her hands, resting in her lap.

"There's this camp your father wanted you to go to. I didn't want to send you, I wanted to keep you close to me… it was selfish. I put you in unnecessary danger."

"If it's any consolation Mrs. Jackson," Grover said, kindly. "She would have been in danger anyway." She nodded again, and wiped her eyes with her hands. She had been crying.

"Let's go."

We had almost made it out of the house, when Gabe stopped us.

"Bean dip Sa- Where are you going?" He growled, glaring at us with hid beady eyes.

I wanted to punch him but Mom stopped me.

"I was just going to take the kids to the mall. I'll make it when I get back."

Gabe didn't move at all, and Mom noticed this.

"In fact, I'll even make seven-layer dip, enough for the entire weekend. Sour cream. Guacamole. The works."

Gabe's look softened.

"Alright then, I guess."

He moved away from the doorway, but kept his gaze on us the entire way to his car. Just before we got in he yelled at us.

"Hey girly, not a single scratch or you're toast!"

"She won't be driving Gabe!" My mom yelled back. He just grunted and started climbing back up the stairs.

Once we got going, I turned to look at Grover, who was sitting beside me in the back.

"Grover, where are we going?"

"We're going to Camp Half-blood, it's the only place safe for people like you."

"People like me?"

"Demi-gods, half-mortal, half-"

"God?"

"Yes, born when a Greek god and a-"

"A mortal hook-up?"

"Would you quite interrupting me!" He yelled, irritated.

"Okay, okay." I lifted my hands up, in an 'I surrender' gesture, "So, are you a demi-god?"

He shook his head no. "I'm a satyr."

"Like in Mr. Brunner's Latin classes? Half-goat, half-man?"

"Yeah, exactly."

I narrowed my eyes slightly. "I don't believe you."

Sighing, He reached down and pulled off his shoe, but instead of a foot there was a...was a...

"Okay... That explains enchilada day."

"I wasn't that obvious, was I?" He asked

"Yep," I said and he groaned, leaning backwards into his seat. Hand rubbing his fore-head. I laughed.

Instead of a foot, there was a shiny, brown, hoof.


	4. I Take a Lesson in Bull-Fighting

**Disclaimer: I own nothing!**

* * *

Chapter 4: I Take a Lesson in Bull-fighting

Grover seemed to have seen something I hadn't, because he made a nervous, bleating noise.

"Mrs. Jackson, can you drive a little faster please?"

"We're almost there. Why? What's wrong?"

He gulped."There's something following us."

Suddenly, the temperature in the Camaro seemed to have dropped several degrees.

"Please, please, please, just a little bit farther." Mom mumbled.

During our ride the skies had darkened, and it started to rain. Thunder boomed in the sky, the _bang!_

Something large hit the trunk of the car. Sending us tumbling into a ditch.

"Get out!" Mom yelled. "Run!"

Grover took the lead, he seemed to know these woods well.

I looked back wondering what we were running from. Just in time to see a bolt of lightening rip a hole through it. Then, something tossed it through the air. It landed about eighty feet away from where it once was. The gas tank exploded.

I remembered what Gabe had told me, 'not a scratch'. Oops.

The rain was pouring harder and harder.

"We need to go to the tree!" Mom yelled, pointing towards a large pine tree standing a top a hill that was covered in long unkempt grass.

There was a grunt behind us.

I saw the figure from before, only more clearly now. At first I thought it was holding a blanket over his head. But his hands were swinging by his sides. Not to mention there were two large, black and white horns on his head. I don't know about anyone else, but I've never seen a blanket with horns attached to it before.

"Pythia! Come on!" Grover yelled.

We were within a few feet of the tree when it happened. The creature had caught up to us. Snorting and grunting it stomped its foot like it was about to-

My mom barely managed to pull me out of the way in time.

"When it charges, jump to the side. It can't turn fast enough to catch you." She said.

"Mom, is that-"

"Pasiphae's son," Mom interrupted. She looked at me. "Don't say its name. Names have power."

"That's him alright," Grover bleated. "In all of his fruit of the loom glory."

The bull-man charged at us again. I watched horror as Grover slipped on the wet grass. Shouting in pain.

Looking at the charging monster, I knew I had to do something. I had a plan (a stupid one, granted, but a plan none the less).

"H-hey underwear brains!" I yelled waving my arms. My mom looked at me like I was crazy.

The newly dubbed 'underwear brains' ran right past Grover, and straight towards me.

I looked behind myself, there was the tree Mom was pointing to earlier. 'Maybe I could get his horns stuck. Even for a little bit...'

I was going to side jump, when I noticed something. He had his arms reached out to each side.

"Pythia!" Mom yelled.

It was too late to abandon ship. As, he was nearing me, time seemed to slow down. My legs tensed as I jumped up. Using his nose as a springboard. I flipped mid-air and landed on his neck.

How did I do that?

I didn't have much time to think on it. In the next second the bull-man had rammed into the tree. Almost, throwing me off.

He staggered, and then started to shake.

I hooked my arms around his horns. Otherwise, he would have bucked me off. Why didn't he just back up and squash me like a bug. This thing, maybe… could it only go forward?

Meanwhile, Mom was trying to help Grover up. It looked like his leg was broken. He slowly turned towards me. I thought about how silly this must have looked. A young preteen girl hanging on to horns, seated on top of a giant bull-man that might as well have been doing some kind of funky dance in the rain.

Apparently, Grover didn't find it as funny as I did.

"Pythia!" Grover yelled.

Unfortunately, that got underwear brains attention. The bull-man wheeled towards them, stomping the ground, and getting ready to charge. I could see it now: Mom would try to pull Grover away, but it was too late, and he'd squash them like pancakes.

I wasn't going to let that happen.

I got both my hands around one horn, and pulled with all my might. The monster stopped, gave a surprised grunt, then- _snap!_

The bull-man screamed and flung about 20 feet away. I landed flat on my back in the grass. My head smacked against a rock. I quickly sat up, my vision, slightly blurry, and in my hands was the horn.

The monster charged.

Without thinking, I rolled to the side and came up kneeling. As the monster barrelled past. I drove the horn straight up, under his fury ribcage.

He roared in agony. Flailing, he clawed at his chest. Before crumbling like a poorly built and castle. Eerily similar to what Mrs. Dodds had done.

The rain had stopped. The storm continued to rumble, but only in the distance. I stank of livestock and my knees were shaking. My head felt like someone was trying to dig a hole through it.

"Pythia!" My mom yelled. "Quickly, before another one comes."

I stumbled over, and helping her support Grover, we walked towards the tree.

"Uh, Mrs. Jackson you won't be able to-"

"Grover." She said.

"Yes, Mrs. Jackson?"

"Shut up."

"Yes, Mrs. Jackson."

I couldn't help but laugh.


	5. The Art of Pinochle

**Disclaimer: I don't own Percy Jackson and the Olympians**

* * *

The Art of Pinochle

The walk to the house was a brisk one. Grover assured us that monsters couldn't penetrate the camp's borders, but my mother and I wanted to be on the safe side. It wasn't every day you were attacked by the Minotaur, and who knew what else might follow.

It was supper-time and I was hungry. The camp looked pretty empty, everyone must be over on the other side, eating supper. I started blinking my eyes, suddenly I was really tired.

We made it to the front porch of the big house. We set Grover down on one of the patio chairs and I took the other one. I was exhausted, I could probably fall asleep right there.

And fall asleep I did, the last words I heard were my Mom telling me that she was going to find help.

Apparently, I slept for two days straight. It would have been three but my Mom knows a thing or two about medicine. Not to mention this wasn't the first time I had been unconscious for a few days. When I first started getting the fainting spells, Mom says that they used to knock me out for long periods of time afterward. This gradually lessened over time, but they still knock me out when I have them.

It was good too, I hadn't realized before, but ever since Ms. Dodds, I hadn't been sleeping right. I kept on having nightmares. The closest I came this time was a field of baby barnyard animals that either wanted to kill me, or food. Which wasn't as bad as it sounds, since baby animals are cute, and I was behind a heavy wooden fence.

Apparently I had stirred a couple of times, but it was never for long, maybe a minute at most. When I woke up the first time, I was face to face with a girl I had never met before. She was blonde and spoon feeding me this weird buttered popcorn flavoured pudding. I was lying in a soft bed in some sort of cabin.

When she saw my eyes open she started asking me strange questions like, "What's the summer solstice deadline?" and, "What was stolen? We don't have much time!" All the while looking around to see if there was anyone who could over hear us.

"What?" I had managed to croak out, "I don't know what you're"

Somebody knocked on the door and she stuffed my mouth with pudding.

The next time I came around my Mom was there, her face worried, muttering to herself so quietly I couldn't hear the words, and I was right next to her. "Oh, sweetie…" She said, placing her hand on my head, "I-"

I was out cold.

The last time I came around I was sitting on the porch in one of the chairs, a pillow behind my head and a blanket on my lap. There were green hills in the distance and the smell of sweet strawberries in the air. Unfortunately, my mouth stung like it had become a scorpion's nest, my tongue felt like a dry sponge, and my throat was the driest it's ever been. Each of my teeth seemed to throb.

Next to me was a tall glass of what looked like apple juice with ice, with a green paper parasol and a cherry on top.

I was so weak that when I went to grab the drink I nearly dropped it.

"Careful," a familiar voice said.

Craning my head around I saw Grover leaning on the porch railing, he looked like he hadn't slept in a week. Under his right arm he had an old shoe box. He was wearing a Camp Half-Blood t-shirt, on one leg he had a cast, but on the other…

It really hadn't been a dream.

"W-Where's my Mom?"

"Talking with the camp director."

"Oh," I nodded my head, "What's that? I asked, pointing towards the shoe box.

"How much do you remember?"

"Uh, we went to my house after school. Then my Mom saw you and freaked out. She took us to camp, and you told me I was a half-blood. On the way… We got interrupted by the-!" He nodded, confirming my shock. I actually fought the Minotaur and didn't die. Wait, Mom came with us, where is she?

I tried to get up to find my Mom but a wave of dizziness over took me. My vision started to swim.

"Don't strain yourself," Grover said pushing me back in my seat. "Here drink this." He helped me hold the drink and put the straw to my mouth.

I recoiled at the taste. I was expecting apple juice, instead I got my Mom's blue chocolate-chip cookies, fresh out of the oven, buttery and warm. They made me feel rejuvenated, full of energy.

Before I knew it the glass was empty. I stared into it, sure I had a warm drink, but the ice hadn't even started to melt.

"How was it?" Grover asked.

"Good."

"What did it taste like?" He sounded do wistful it made me feel guilty, but also curious.

"You've never had it before?" I said, I brow raised.

"No, I'm… allergic to it," he had this look like he wanted to say more but couldn't.

"Oh, well it tasted like my Mom's fresh chocolate-chip cookies, maybe you can try them sometime."

He sighed. "Thanks, how do you feel?"

"Like I could toss Nancy Bobofit into the middle of a lake."

"That's good," he said. "That's really good. I don't think you could risk drinking anymore of that stuff." He took the empty glass from me gingerly, holding the glass with his fingertips like it was a chink of dynamite.

"What? What's wrong? Why…" I could just feel the beginning of another black-out. Two in as many days, what was going on? Is it because the other got held off?

"Thia are you okay?"

"Yeah, just a little dizzy it's gone now." I had held it off before and I could do it again. I wasn't about to break my promise to Mom.

"If you're sure… Oh I almost forgot!" He passed me the shoe box. "Look inside."

I opened the box and my heart started thumping, memories of that night flashing through my mind. In the box lay the broken horn of the Minotaur.

"Is that really?"

Grover nodded. "A spoil of battle, if you break something off of a monster before it dissolves you can keep it. I went back up the hill to get it, a reminder of your victory and arrival at camp."

"Thanks," I smiled.

"If you're sure. Mr. D and Chiron are waiting, your mom will probably be there too."

The porch wrapped all around the farmhouse.

My legs felt wobbly walking that far, and my head was pounding. Grover carried the Minotaur's horn for me.

As we came around the opposite end of the house, my breath caught.

We must have been on the north shore of Long Island, because on this side of the house, the valley stretched right up to the water's edge, glittering about a mile in the distance. Between there and here I couldn't believe what I was seeing, there was so much. Everywhere there was buildings that looked like what I could only imagine ancient Greek structures looked like way back when. There was an open-air pavilion, an amphitheater, a circular arena, and more. In a sandpit a bunch of school-age kids were playing volleyball with some satyrs. Canoes glided across the lake. Some kids, in orange shirts like Grover's, were chasing each other around some cabins near the woods. Some were shooting targets at the archery range. Others were riding horses through a trail in the woods. Taking a second look I realized some of those horses had _wings_.

Further down the porch sat two men, and my mom. The blonde girl that asked the weird questions was there too. I recognized one of the men instantly, it was my Latin teacher Mr. Brunner.

Sitting across from him was a small and porky man with a red nose, watery eyes, and curly hair that was so black it was almost purple. He looks like what I'd imagine a cherub would if it turned middle-aged in a trailer park. He wore a tiger-print Hawaiian shirt and would've fit in right at one of my step-father's poker parties. Except, underneath it all, he had this feeling I couldn't explain but he was important, that much I could tell.

"That's Mr. D," Grover murmured to me. "He's the camp director. Be polite. The girl is Annabeth Chase. She's an ordinary camper if you ignore that she's been here longer than anybody else. Then there's Chiron, but you already know him and finally-"

"Mom!"

"Hello sweetie, how are you doing?"

I grinned, just hearing my Mom's voice could make my day so much better.

"I'm good."

"Hello Pythia," Mr. Brunner said. "We were just playing pinochle, your mother is surprisingly good." He gestured to a seat beside Mr. D. "Will you join us?"

Nodding my head I sat down and grabbed a pile of cards.

"Oh, I suppose I must say it. Welcome to Camp Half-Blood. There. Now don't expect me to be happy to see you." I scooted a little further from him and towards Mom. If living with Gabe taught me anything it was when adults were on the happy juice. If Mr. D was a stranger to alcohol, I was a dryad.

"Annabeth," Mr. Brunner said. "Will you go check on Pythia's bunk please. She'll be in cabin eleven until her father claims her."

Annabeth replied, "Sure, Chiron."

Annabeth was about my age, but way more athletic looking. With her blonde hair and tan skin she almost looked like a stereotypical California girl, but her startlingly grey eyes ruined the image. They seemed to pierce the world around her, like she was constantly figuring out twenty different ways to take something (or someone) down and then piece it back together again.

"Hey," I said. She took a long glance at me, eyes flickering to the Minotaur horn Grover had set beside me. I thought she might say 'You fought the Minotaur, cool' or 'Is that thing real?'

Instead she glared at me, said a curt 'hello' and sprinted across the lawn

"So, Mr. Brunner, you're a teacher here?"

"Well yes, I am."

"Wait so are you some sort of Greek, mythological, being too?"

"I don't know about calling us myths but yes I-well it's probably best to just show you."

With that Mr. Brunner began to stand up. Which should have been impossible, he was paralyzed from the waist down. Yet still he rose, the blanket falling from his lap, but his legs stayed in place. At first I thought he was just wearing long velvet white underwear, but then, rising higher than any man, one knobbly horse's knee stepped out from the chair. Followed by another, and another, and another. Soon there was only an empty metal shell with fake legs attached. Mr. Brunner standing beside it, from the waist down a horse. Mr. Brunner was a centaur.

"So, all of the Greek myths and legends, they're really true?"

"Yes," my Mom said.

"So, Mr. Brunner is really a centaur."

"Yes," Mr. Brunner said. "Although Mr. Brunner is a pseudonym. My true name is Chiron."

"Wait, hold up," I said hands in a time out. "Chiron, as in Chiron trainer of Achilles and Jason, that Chiron?"

"Yes."

"Great, what's next?" I gestured to Mr. D. "He's a god sent here as punishment for trying to woo the wrong girl?" Everyone was dead silent.

"Wow," Grover said. "Wait to hit the nail on the coffin."

I stared at Mr. D. with wide eyes. I was taken aback, I never thought…

"Pythia?"

"Sorry, it's just… This is all a lot to take in."

"I suppose it would be, but you've taken this much better than others have before you."

"Well, I've had a lot of weird things happen to me." Mom nodded her head.

"I'm glad I can see through the mist," she placed her hand on my shoulder. "Otherwise, I don't what I'd have done or thought."

Amazingly, I was now more confused than before.

"What's the mist?"

"The mist is what hides our world from the mortals," Mr. Bru- sorry, Chiron said. "Well, most mortals," he nodded to my mom.

"The mist should work on all mortals if you ask me," Mr. D said. "So, are you going to bet or not girl?"

"Bet?"

Mr. D. sighed, "Youth these days, don't even know how to play one of the greatest games ever invented." Then explained to me how you bet in pinochle, so I did.

"Um, Mr. D. are you going to eat your can?" Grover asked.

"No, you can have it if you want."

Grover took the empty pop can and started nibbling on it nervously.

Who was Mr. D.? Why was Grover so fearful of him? Sure, he was a god, but which god would have such sway over satyrs?

Then it hit me like a ton of feathers (which is worse than a ton of bricks because at least with the bricks you're expecting it to hurt), Mr. _D_., D, the only god whose name starts with a 'd' that I know of is Dionysus, the god of wine.

"So, Mr. D…"

He raised an eyebrow. "Yes?"

"Why are you here, at camp? You're a god – right?"

He nodded his head.

"So, why aren't you doing some godly thing on Mt. Olympus?"

"Exactly," he groaned. "But does father understand? No. Honestly, you flirt with one dryad…"

I looked at Mr. Bru- Chiron (this was going to take some getting used to) for clarification.

"Mr. D. offended his father by going after a wood nymph that had been declared strictly off limits. He was sent here as punishment."

"Bah!" Mr. D. said. "Father just enjoys punishing me! Last time, prohibition. Ghastly! An absolutely horrid decade. This time- well she was really pretty, I couldn't stay away- this time he sent me to this stupid camp! 'Be a better influence' he said, 'work with youth instead of tearing them down.' Honestly, it's complete torture… I don't even have my wine!"

"Wonder if he was torturing you or the children…" Mom muttered, unfortunately Dionysus heard her.

"What did you say," His eyes had a sense of warning to them, like the calm before a storm.

To my Mom's credit she didn't even flinch.

"No offense but you clearly don't like it here, and that probably shows with how you interact with the demigods. You're probably not the first choice someone would make for a camp director. It just doesn't seem to be your thing, and children can pick up on that. New demigods would probably take better to someone who wanted to be here is all."

"Oh really," he said leaning in closer.

"Yes, I took psychology in high school, and I was in, uh cadets when I was young. Who new recruits first interact with tends to have an influence on their temperament towards the group. That and I am a mother myself, I have some understanding on what goes through pre-teens' heads," she smiled at me before turning back to Mr. D. "Most of the new arrivals are pre-teens, right?"

'Hmph, I suppose you're right." Mr. D. backed away, I let out a breath I didn't realize I had been holding in. Why had Mom done that? "Just don't do that with my sister," he added. "Depending on her mood she might not take it well."

"Thank you, I'll be sure to keep that in mind," Mom turned to look at me. "Thia, now that you're feeling better I best be off. You know how your step-father can get and I was only supposed to be gone for a couple of hours, it's been a couple of days. Besides you don't really want your Mom around when you're meeting the campers." With that she stood up and began to walk towards the pine tree.

"I believe I win," Mr. D. Said laying down his cards.

"Not quite Mr. D," Chiron said. "The game goes to me."

I wasn't really paying attention to the game. Watching my Mom leave I suddenly got this gut feeling that something was going to go very, very wrong, and soon.

"Mom!" I called out to her, she was already half-way to the hill. "Be careful, alright!"

She smiled one of the most reassuring smiles I've ever seen. "Of course sweetie. When have I ever not been careful?"

Funny, something that was supposed to make me feel better only made the feeling worse.

"I'm tired," Mr. D. said. "I believe I'm going to have a nap before the sing-along tonight, but first," He turned to Grover. "You will follow me inside so we can talk about the outcomes of your latest assignment."

Grover's face beaded with sweat, "Y-yes sir."

"And you," Mr. D. said to me. "Off to cabin eleven, Pythia Jackson, and do mind your manners." With that he swept into the farmhouse, Grover meekly following behind.

"Will Grover be okay?"

"Ah, he'll be fine Pythia, old Dionysus isn't really angry, he's just been a little grumpy ever since he was 'grounded' for lack of a better term. He can hardly wait another century before he's let back on Olympus."

"Mount Olympus, there really is a palace there?"

"Well, there's Mount Olympus in Greece, and then there's the home of the gods. It's still called Mt. Olympus, out of respect for the old days, but just like the gods themselves, it too moved."

"Move? Why would they move?"

"The gods go where the heart of the west goes. It originated in Greece, but then it moved to Rome, Germany, France, and Spain. Where ever the flame was brightest. We even spent a few centuries in England before we moved here. It is very easy to tell where the gods have been. You simply need to look at the architecture. You can see them in paintings, statues, and on the most important buildings."

"So, the gods, they're here-in the US," Chiron nodded. "So, if Olympus moved with them, does that mean other things moved as well?"

"Some," Chiron said. "But not all. For instance, the cave of Delphi is still in Greece. However, you must never go there."

"Why?"

"Greece, and Italy, are filled to the brim with ancient magic. Many curses are still there, and the monsters are stronger. If you had fought the Minotaur in its original home of Minos you would have died, most assuredly. That is why all demigods are forbidden from going to the Mediterranean. It's simply too dangerous."

I could feel the blood run from my face, I had come close to death before with both the Minotaur and the fury, and here he was saying they weren't at full power?

Chiron could clearly sense my distress, and decided it was time for a change of pace.

"Come Pythia," Chiron said, trotting to the stairs. "It's time I show you Cabin Eleven."


	6. I Become a Master of Toilet-Fu

**Disclaimer: I don't own Percy Jackson and the Olympians.**

* * *

Chapter 6: I Become a Master of Toilet-Fu

I want to say I had complete and utter confidence in Chiron. I really do, but I've picked up after the horses at the Macy's Thanksgiving Day parade a few times. So, I'm sorry but I didn't have nearly as much confidence with Chiron's rear end as I did his front. As such, I tried my best to stay near his front end during the tour.

We were passing the volleyball pit, when some of the campers nudged each other. One pointed to the Minotaur horn I had. The guy beside him said, "Hey, I think that's _her_."

Most of the campers were older than me. The satyrs, all much bigger than Grover, were trotting around in only Camp Half-Blood t-shirts, their shaggy rears exposed to the wind. Now, normally I'm not very shy, but the way they were staring at me made me feel uncomfortable. It was like they all expected me to pull a Houdini.

Sparingly a glance backwards I realized the farmhouse was much larger than I originally thought. It was four stories tall, sky blue and had a white trim, like some kind of beach-side upscale resort. I was checking out the eagle shaped weather vane on top when something caught my eye making me stop dead in my tracks. A shadow had breezed across the attic window. For some reason the shape was almost— _familiar._ Something about seeing that shadow resonated with my very being, like…like I was just realizing something important about myself for the first time, and that I wasn't the only one and part of a group. Instantly, my nervousness and sense of alienation here at camp dulled. I felt a connection, to what I don't know. It was frustrating, I should know who it was, but it was on the tip of my tongue, there but not there.

"Pythia?" Chiron turned to face me. Pythia… that name sounded right, but who else shared my name?

"Who's up there?" I asked, if anybody knew, it would be Chiron.

He looked where I was pointing, and his smiled faded. "That's the attic, and I'm sorry to say but there's nothing alive in there."

I could sense he was being truthful, but… I knew there was something in there, If what Chiron said is true—it's something un-living…

"Come on Pythia," Chiron said his tone once cheerful tone now slightly forced. "There's still lots to see."

As we walked through the strawberry fields I saw satyrs playing reed pipes, causing bugs to flee like soldiers in retreat, and campers picking bushels of ripe berries.

"Our source of income," Chiron explained. "As well as a cover story, we sell the strawberries to New York restaurants and Mt. Olympus."

"Doesn't growing strawberries take a lot of work?"

Chiron shook his head. He told me Mr. D had this effect on fruit-bearing plants: they grew like crazy when he was around. Apparently it works best with wine grapes, but those were off limits for obvious reasons. So, strawberries it was.

"Will Grover be okay?" Seeing those satyrs made me worry about Grover again. Hearing the reed pipes had reminded me of music class. Grover desperately tried to play the flute, and failed miserably each and every time, then laugh it off like it was no big deal.

Chiron paused. "I honestly do not know," he said in deep thought. "It depends on if Dionysus and the Council of Cloven Elders consider your arrival a failure or not."

"A failure?" Why would my coming to camp be considered a failure?

"He was carried into camp by you and your mother. As your protector he shouldn't have needed to depend on you to save him. The presence of your mother complicates the situation. Would he have been injured without her there? Was bringing her along the right choice? Would you have been in less danger if he took you straight to camp, or would you still have been attacked? These are questions they are considering right now."

I frowned Grover didn't do anything wrong "If they do consider it a failure, he'll be given a second chance right?"

Chiron sighed. "I'm afraid this was his second chance. The Council was wary to give him a second one, after what happened the first time, five years ago. Olympus knows, I advised him to wait a little longer. He's still so small for his age…"

"Wait, how old is he?"

"Twenty-eight, satyrs age at a slower pace than humans do, but he is a late bloomer even by their standards. Grover has been the equivalent of a sixth-grader for about six years now."

"My eyes widened, being stuck in middle school for that long- "that's terrible."

"Quite, however he was anxious to reach his dream. No matter how unrealistic it is. Perhaps he will now consider a more reasonable alternative."

"What happened last time?"

Chiron winced. "Let's go look at the woods now."

From far away I couldn't really tell, but up close I realized how truly monstrous the woods are. With their massive trees and dense brush they easily took up a quarter of the valley. I could imagine that no one had been here since the Native Americans.

"The woods are fully stocked," Chiron said. "But if you want to test your luck I suggest you go armed."

"Stocked with what?" I asked. "Armed with what? Bear repellant?"

"You'll see. Next Friday night is capture the flag. I don't suppose you have a sword and shield?"

"A sword and what?"

"No, I suppose not. I'll visit the armoury later. I think a size four will do."

"What camp has swords and shields?" I asked.

Chiron stared at me straight in the eyes. "A camp for demigods."

A demigod, that's what I am, part mortal, part god. I was attacked by the Minotaur and by… Mrs. Dodds, a fury. If that's what it meant to be a demigod, being attacked by monsters from legend, I can understand the need for weapons.

It never really hit me till then, I'm a demigod. Everything odd or inexplainable that had ever happened to me. Everything I didn't understand… It all had a reason. This reason, that I'm a demigod, the daughter of Sally Jackson and some Grecian god. My life no longer consists of just the ordinary and mundane, in fact, it never truly did, and I just hadn't realized it until now.

Grover is a satyr.

Mr. Brunner is Chiron.

Mrs. Dodds was real.

My mother has been trying to protect me my entire life.

My mother… everything she had told me not to do, the worried looks, how she was always so reassuring and accepting when something weird happened… That was why, she knew what was going on. She was protecting me from it all.

Why? Why didn't she tell me what was happening? There were so many things that made me wonder what was wrong with me, so many times. Why didn't she tell me then?

I wanted to ask Chiron but the words died in my throat.

As the tour continued, we passed by the archery range, the canoe lake, stables (Chiron gave a good, long glare at those), the javelin range, sing-along amphitheatre, and the fighting arena.

"Has anyone died?" I asked, worried.

"No, no, we have rules against maiming and use of lethal force. The fights are usually just cabin challenges, practice sessions, or lessons," Chiron said. "Oh look, there's the dining pavilion."

He pointed to an open air group of Grecian columns with tables and benches seated on top of a hill. What was weird was that there was no roof or walls.

"What do you do when it rains?" I said.

Chiron just looked at me with an odd expression, like I had just asked some ridiculous question.

"We would get drenched right?"

He seemed to realize what I meant. I could imagine a light bulb lighting over his head like in the cartoons. "There's a barrier around camp that keeps weather phenomena, such as rain, out."

"Oh." That actually made a lot of sense. Archery and sword-fighting are, apparently, important aspects of camp. Rain makes both of them harder to do. Solution? No rain.

Next he took me to see the cabins in the woods by the lake. There were twelve of them, all arranged in a U shape with two at the base and five on each side. And trust me when I say this, they are the oddest cabins I've ever seen.

Out of all twelve cabins, only one looked like a normal cabin, and even that was a little strange. It had a caduceus on the door, and a big brass number eleven on top. It also looked the oldest of all the cabins, the doorway had a path carved through it from all the foot traffic.

The rest of the cabins continued with the brass numbers, odds on the left, evens on the right. Number nine was a deep red, with factory chimneys spewing smoke. Number four looked like someone had turned a garden into a house, it even had grass growing on the roof! Seven seemed to be made of gold and gleamed in the sun. If it was any brighter it would be like staring directly at the sun.

All of the cabins were facing an open field, filled with flowers beds, a couple of basketballs hoops, fountains and Greek statues.

Dead-ahead of us, on the opposite side of the field, were two cabins, numbered one and two. They were bigger and taller than any of the other cabins.

"These are the cabins. Which one you stay in depends on who your godly parent is. There is one for each of the twelve Olympians," Chiron said.

"The two at the end, are they for Zeus and Hera?" I asked.

"Yes, although nowadays no one ever stays in them."

"Hera I understand, but didn't Zeus have a ton of kids in the legends?"

Chiron nodded.

"Then why is his cabin empty? Were his children too strong and influential? Too dangerous?"

Chiron sighed, "If there is one thing you are good at Pythia, it's certainly making guesses. Yes, World War II was basically a fight between children of the big three. Zeus and Poseidon's children vs Hades' son. Afterwards the three made an oath on the river Styx, the most solemn oath you can make, to never have another demigod child."

Something told me Chiron wasn't telling the whole truth. Something else happened that day, but what? What would make the gods fear their own children? What made immortals fear? A-

A splitting headache stopped my train of thoughts. I clutched my head in pain.

Eventually, the ringing stopped and I looked back up.

"Pythia, can you tell me what time it is? I seem to have forgotten my pocket watch." Chiron asked. At the time I didn't notice the concerned look he had.

I took a quick glance at the sky, "11:35."

"Oh my," he said. Looking around he spotted the blonde girl from earlier. She was reading a book on architecture over by one of the fountains. At first I couldn't tell what it was, all I knew was that it looked Greek to me. Then I realized it actually was Greek.

"Annabeth," he said. "Can you come over here?"

She closed her book and came jogging up. "Yes Chiron?"

"Can you take over for me? I have master's archery at noon and it's already 11:35."

"Yes, sir," she said, her eyes criticizing me as if she was still deciding what to make of me.

"Cabin eleven," he said, gesturing to the old cabin I saw earlier, before galloping away.

The inside of the cabin was just as beat up looking as the outside. There were several boys and girls, far more than the bunk beds. The floor was lined with so many sleeping bags that it looked like one big sleeping bag quilt. Overall, the room could easily have been a red-cross evacuation centre.

I stood at the doorway, everyone was staring at me. I knew what was going to happen, I had been the new kid before.

"Well," Annabeth said. "Go on."

I took a step through the door way, and nearly tripped on one of the sleeping bags. Gazing around I saw everyone was still staring at me. A couple of boys in the corner had this look in their eyes, like they were planning something devious.

Great, I thought, pranksters. Now don't get me wrong, I love a good prank. Just not when it's on me.

"Regular or undetermined?" Someone piped up.

"Undetermined." Annabeth replied.

Everyone groaned.

A guy a little older than the rest stepped forward. "Now, now everyone, that's why we're here. Welcome Pythia. You can have that spot over there" He said, pointing to what must have been the only empty space in the entire cabin. It wasn't very big, only enough to fit a sleeping bag.

I looked down at the Minotaur horn in my hands, I didn't have anything else to mark the space as my own. So, I placed it down, giving a firm glare to each and everyone in the room warning them to not even think about taking it. Seeing as a couple of them flinched away, I think it worked.

I looked back at the guy. He was about nineteen, and had this huge scar running from his right eye down to his chin. His sandy blonde hair was cropped short and his blue eyes held that glint that all troublemakers had. I would say mischievous, but the scar made him seem to lean more to the punk side of things.

"This is Luke," Annabeth said, I could practically hear here blushing. I looked back and, sure enough, she was blushing.

I suppose I could see the attraction. He seemed like a nice guy and he was kind of good looking, but I never really understood the fascination some girls had with guys. They aren't that great.

When she noticed me looking her face quickly hardened. "He'll be your counsellor for now."

"For now?"

"You're undetermined," he said. "All undetermined campers get placed in the Hermes cabin. Since he's the god of travellers. Once they're determined, they'll either stay here, if they're a child of Hermes or a minor god, or go to a different cabin."

"I take it a lot of kids are left undetermined."

He nodded his head, a look of regret in his eyes. "Yeah."

I turned to face the others. "Well, I guess I better get to know you all. Since, I'll be here for a while."

Some of the campers laughed, some grinned, but a few stared at me like I was the source for all their regrets.

Apparently, Annabeth noticed it too, "Come on, Pythia. Let's go see the volleyball court." She said, gently tugging me out of the cabin.

Once we were far away enough from the cabin I asked her what that was all about.

"Some of the campers are… tired," she said. "Your presence reminded them of the fact that they've never been claimed. They feel that their parents don't care for them. You accepting it all so easily…it rubbed salt in the wound. It almost would have been better if you hadn't caught on so quickly, at least they would have gotten a laugh."

"The gods are all powerful right?" I asked.

"Well, I guess, depends on what you mean by 'all powerful'," she shrugged.

"Then why can't they just claim their kids?"

"It's not as simple as that. You wouldn't understand."

"You sound like you speak from experience."

"Yeah, sometimes… bad things can happen to you when you're claimed." Annabeth stared of into the distance, caught up in her memories.

"Hey, princess," a rough voice said, snapping her out of her thoughts.

"So, this is the new girl," turning around I came face-to-chest with the meanest looking kid I had ever seen. She wore a XXXL camp T-shirt and was built like an ox. Three other girls, built just like her, followed behind.

"Clarisse," Annabeth spat. "Why don't you go polish you spear or something?"

"Sure little miss princes," Clarisse said. "Then I can run you through with it Friday night."

"Erre es korakas!" Annabeth said, which must have been a worse swear than it sounded, there isn't anything really bad about crows.

"You'll never stand a chance." Annabeth said.

Clarisse laughed, "We'll pulverize you." Her eye twitched, maybe she was worried she couldn't follow through with her threat.

Clarisse turned to me, "Who's this?"

"Pythia Jackson," Annabeth said, "meet Clarisse, daughter of Ares."

"Ares… as in the war god?"

"Yeah, you got a problem with that?" Clarisse said.

I blinked, "no, it explains the, uh, warrior-ness?"

"Right," Clarisse snorted. "We've got an initiation ceremony for newbies, Pissy."

"It's Pythia."

"Whatever. You'll see, come on."

"Clarisse-." Annabeth began.

"Stay out of it, wise girl."

Annabeth, looked like she wanted to say something, but she stayed out of it. Opting to stare with an uncomfortable expression.

I turned to Clarisse, ready to fight. I had to earn my rep and if this is how she wanted to do it, then fine.

Within a second she had me by the scruff of my neck.

I tried to fight my way out, but she has an iron-grip. Eventually she hauled me into the girls' bathroom. It was like any other public washroom, there was a line of toilet stalls, and showers in the corner. It definitely smelled like any other washroom. Honestly, if this place belonged to the gods, they could afford better upkeep of their toilets.

Speaking of toilets, Clarisse was trying to shove my head into one.

She and her friends laughed, "As if she's 'big three' material. I bet her mommy did all the fighting, while she cried in the corner sucking her thumb."

Her friends laughed.

Annabeth stood in the corner, watching though her finger.

I stared at the toilet's scummy water, which reeked of rusty pipes and filth, thinking, I'm not going into that. I won't. There's no way.

Then it happened. I felt a tug in my gut, and the pluming rumbled. Suddenly a geyser shot out of the toilet, arched over my head, and slammed into Clarisse's face. I was dropped to the floor as I heard Clarisse scream.

As I turned around to face her, the water blasted her again, pushing her to the floor.

Gasping, she struggled to get up. Her friends moved towards her.

Then the other toilets exploded too, followed by the shower, turning the entire room into a shower of gross water. All of the fixtures worked in synchronicity to blast the camo wearing girls out of the washroom. Spinning them around like sewage down the drain.

The feeling in my gut slowly subsided, and the water went down the drains.

Everywhere was drenched. Even Annabeth hadn't been spared. She hadn't been pushed out the door, but she was standing there in shock. Staring right at me.

Standing up I realized that there was a dry spot in the room. It formed a perfect circle around me, there wasn't a single drop of water within a foot of myself. I was completely dry in a room covered in water.

"How did you…" Annabeth said.

"I don't know."

We walked outside and saw Clarisse and her friends lying in a mud pit. A bunch of other campers were standing around, gawking. Apparently it wasn't every day that Clarisse got water hosed out of a washroom. All four were drenched and smelled of sewage. Clarisse's hair was plastered across her face.

"You are dead, new girl," she said. "You're so dead."

I probably could have said something, but there really wasn't anything to be said. I simply stared at her as she and her friends marched off to Cabin five. A big red building with a boar's head that looked like it was painted with paint balls and fists.

I turned to Annabeth who was still staring at me. Out of hate or disgust I didn't know, but she had this gleam in her eyes, like she was scheming.

"What are you thinking?" I asked.

"I'm thinking," she said, "that I want you on my team for capture the flag."


	7. The Holy Goblet of Antioch

**Disclaimer: I don't own Percy Jackson and the Olympians**

* * *

Chapter 7: The Magical Goblet Of Antioch

As is the case with any group of pre-teens and teens, the events of the bathroom spread like wildfire. Soon, the entire camp was whispering about the girl who made Clarisse gargle toilet water.

Annabeth, who was a surprisingly good-sport after being doused in toilet water, continued to show me around camp. We went to the forge (where kids were making their own weapons), the arts-and-crafts room (complete with a partially sandblasted sculpture of a satyr, made by satyrs, for satyrs), then the climbing wall (which was actually two walls facing each other that, if you didn't climb them fast enough, shook, clashed together and spewed lava at you).

Eventually we made our way back to the canoe lake, where the trail led back to the cabins.

"I have to go," Annabeth said, "I've got training. Supper's at seven-thirty, I'm sure you can follow your cabin to the dining pavilion."

"Look, Annabeth I'm sorry about the water incident."

"It's fine."

"No it's not, I didn't mean to do it."

She closed her eyes and sighed. "I told you, its fine. You shouldn't worry."

I watched her walk away. Then she turned and said. "You really should go see the oracle. I'll talk to Chiron!" Before skipping away.

I just stared at her fleeing body. What was all that about?

Back at cabin eleven, everyone was messing around, waiting for dinner. I walked over to my spot and sat down, a lot happened today and it wasn't even over yet.

"Found you a sleeping bag." I looked up and saw Luke standing over me. "And here," he said," I stole you some toiletries from the camp store."

I wasn't too sure if he was kidding about the stealing part.

"Thanks," I said.

"No biggy," Luke sat down beside me, leaning against the wall. "Tough first day?"

"Yeah, it's a lot to take in," I said. "I didn't even believe in gods before all this."

"That's how we all started. Once you get used to all of this? It never get's any easier."

His voice was surprisingly bitter. I thought he was an easy-going guy, but apparently that wasn't always the case.

"So, Hermes is your dad?" I asked.

He eyed the mud on his sandal then pulled a switchblade out of his pocket. "Yeah, Hermes."

"Have you ever met him?"

"Once."

I wanted to ask him more about it, but the words stuck in my throat. If he wanted to tell me he would. Apparently, he didn't. I wondered if how he got his scar was related to it. He seemed really grumpy about the whole ordeal.

Luke looked up and managed a smile. "Don't worry, Pythia. The campers are mostly good people. We all take care of each other. After all, we're extended family, of sorts."

I guess I must have seemed pretty lost, otherwise Luke would have no reason to interact with me. Even if we were 'extended family', but at least he tried to understand me, everyone else here… Well, they just didn't know what to do with me.

I decided to ask him about what had been bothering me all afternoon. "Annabeth said I should talk to the oracle and Clarisse joked about me being 'big three' material. Everyone, even Chiron, seem tense like something big is happening. Do you have any idea what is going on?"

"I hate prophecies." Luke folded his knife.

"What prophecy?"

Luke touched his scar and sighed. "Let's just say I messed things up for everyone. My quest to the Garden of the Hesperides went sour and ever since Chiron hasn't allowed anymore quests. Annabeth has been dying to get out into the world and test herself-"

"Test herself? More like get herself killed! I barely survived those to times and that's only because I had serious help!"

"Anyhow, after a bunch of pestering Chiron told her that he already knew her fate. He received a prophecy from the oracle. He said that Annabeth wasn't destined to leave camp until somebody…special came to camp."

"And she thinks that's me?"

"Don't worry about it, Thia. Annabeth likes to think that everybody that comes into camp is the one she's been waiting for."

"Like some love-sick hopeless romantic?"

Luke laughed. "Yeah, exactly. Now come on, it's supper time."

Just as he finished speaking a horn blared in the distance. Somehow, I knew it was a conch shell, though I couldn't remember if I had heard one before.

Luke yelled, "Eleven, fall in!"

The whole cabin, about twenty of us, filed into the yard. WE lined up in order of seniority. So, of course, I was dead last. Campers came from the other cabins, except for the first three and number eight. Which started to glow as cabin number 7 dimmed.

We marched up the hill to the dining pavilion. The satyrs joined us from the meadow, naiads from the canoeing lake, and dryad's came from the woodwork. Literally, out of the trees themselves. I saw one girl, maybe nine or ten, melt from the bark of a tree and come skipping up the hill.

Torches blazed around the marble columns surrounding the pavilion. In the centre a fire burned in a bronze brazier the size of a bathtub. Each cabin had its own table, covered in purple trimmed white cloth. Four of the tables were empty but cabin eleven's was seriously overcrowded. I was sitting on the edge of the bench with half of my butt hanging off.

Grover was sitting with Mr. D, a few satyrs and two boys who could very well have been Mr. D's children. Chiron was standing off to the side. Picnic tables weren't exactly made for centaurs.

Annabeth was sitting at table six with her siblings, all serious-looking athletic with blonde hair and her grey eyes.

Clarisse was sitting at Ares' table behind me. She was belching and laughing with her friends. I hoped she was over the toilet incident.

Finally Chiron pounded his hoof against the marble flooring, and everyone fell silent. He raised his glass. "To the gods!"

"To the gods!" Everyone toasted.

Wood nymphs walked around with platters of food: apples, grapes, strawberries, fresh bread, cheese, and barbecue. I looked around to see where to fill my glass but I couldn't see any sort of drink dispenser.

"Speak to it," Luke said. "Whatever you want. So long as it's non-alcoholic, of course."

"Cherry coke," I said and to my amazement the glass filled with the bubbly caramel liquid.

Then I had an idea. "Blue cherry coke."

The soda turned into a vibrant shade of cyan.

I cautiously took a sip. My face slowly turned into a grin. It was perfect.

"Here Thia," Luke said, handing me a platter of smoked brisket.

I loaded my plate, and was about to cut a piece off when I saw everyone getting up and carrying their plates to the fire.

"What are they doing?" I asked Luke.

He smiled, "Come on, you'll see."

As I got closer, I could see that everyone was taking the nicest portion of their meal, the juiciest slice of brisket, the ripest apple, the warmest, most buttery roll, and throwing them into the fire.

"Burnt offerings for the gods," Luke whispered in my ear. "They like the smell."

"Of burnt food?"

He shook his head, "You'll see."

Luke neared the fire, bowed his head and tossed in a bunch of fat red grapes. "Hermes."

I was next.

I didn't know what to say.

I eventually whispered, "To Hermes, for letting me stay in your cabin, and for Dad, whoever you are. Please watch out for Mom."

I threw in two huge strawberries.

When I smelt the smoke, I actually didn't gag.

It didn't smell at all like burning food. Instead, it smelled of fresh-baked cookies and apple cider, bread in the oven and a field after the rain, and a hundred over good things that never should have gone well together but somehow did. I almost could believe that the gods lived off that smoke.

When everyone was done eating their food, Chiron pounded his hooves again to gain our attention.

Mr. D sighed as he stood. "I suppose I better say hello to all you brats. So, hello. Our activities director, Chiron, reminds me that the next capture the flag I Friday. Cabin five currently holds the laurels.

A horde of cheers rose from Clarisse's table.

"Personally," Mr. D continued, "I really couldn't care less but congratulations, I suppose. Also, we have a new camper today, Pricilla Johnson."

Chiron murmured something.

"Ah yes, Pythia Jackson," Mr. D corrected. "Yes, yes, hurrah and all that. Now then, run long to your silly little campfire. Go on."

We all cheered and headed down to the amphitheater. The Apollo cabin led a sing-along. We sang camp songs and ballads to the gods. Ate s'mores and goofed off, and the weird thing was, I didn't feel like I was stared at anymore. I finally felt at home.

Dancing around with some of the other girls to ring around the rosie, I caught a glimpse of someone staring by the woods, but by the time I swung around again, whoever it was had disappeared.

Later, with the last sparks of the campfire curling up into the starry night sky, the conch blew again and we trekked back into our cabins. I didn't truly realize how tired I was until I my head hit my pillow. I was instantly asleep.

That was my first day at Camp Half-Blood.

If only the rest of my days were like that one. But as Luke said, I hate prophecies.

Because they have the power to change your life forever.

* * *

 **P.S. Imaginary blue chocolate-chip cookies for anyone who gets the reference!**

 **Also, I have a question, should I have Luke join Kronos or not? If so who should I replace him with? (I'm leaning towards Annabeth for now).**


	8. We get our Game on

**Disclaimer: I don't own 'Percy Jackson and the Olympians.'**

* * *

Chapter 8: We Get Our Game On

The next few days were pretty normal. Aside from the fact I was learning how to sword fight and was surrounded by satyrs, and nymphs.

In the mornings I would learn Ancient Greek from Annabeth. I wasn't that bad but I was nowhere near fluent.

In the afternoons Chiron tried to find a particular activity I was good at. A hint of who my father might be. Nothing really stuck. I was okay at archery, but even the youngest Apollo kids outstripped me.

I sucked at foot-racing, the dryad instructors told me not to worry about it. They had decades of practice running away from love-sick immortals. But it still kind of sucked to be slower than a tree.

And wrestling? Don't even think about it. Clarisse wasn't anywhere near over the toilet incident, despite what I thought. Every chance she got she would pummel me into the ground.

The only thing I seemed to be good at was canoeing, not exactly a very heroic skill. When is being good with a canoe going to save you from a monster?

All-in-all, we had no idea of who my father might be. Not even Annabeth, with all her smarts, could figure it out. I wasn't good at archery, or strong like the Ares' kids. I didn't have Hephaestus' kids' skills at the forge, or-thank goodness- Dionysus' way with plants.

Luke thought I might be a child of Hermes, jack-of-all-trades-master-of-none, since my skills were all over the place. But I could tell he was just trying to make me feel better. Chances were I was the child of some minor god that had the bad luck to get an extra heaping helping of demi-god stink.

Thursday afternoon, four days after I came to Camp Half-Blood, I had my first sword-fighting class. The entirety of Cabin eleven gathered around in a circular arena. Luke was our instructor.

We started with basic slashing and stabbing, our 'enemies' were straw-stuffed dummies in Greek armour. I think I did okay, I had the concept of what we were doing down, but no matter what sword I tried they always seemed off. I just didn't feel balanced in the stances with them.

Luke tried his best to find me a sword that 'fit.' Apparently, swords have different balances that change how they feel in your hand. Unfortunately, all of the practice swords were either too heavy, or too light, or too long.

When we started dueling in pairs, Luke offered to be my partner, to guide me through ho it's done. "Good luck," one of the campers said. "Luke's the best swordsman in three hundred years."

"It's not like he'll be going all out on me. It's my first spar. There'll probably be more instructing then butt-whooping," I said.

The camper looked unsure.

The thing about Luke is he teaches the hard way. He held no strength in his swing as he beat into me how to parry, thrust and shield blocks. "Keep your guard up, Pythia," he'd say, the smack me in the ribs with the flat of his blade. "Not that high up!" Smack. "Lunge!" Smack. "Now back!" Smack again.

By the time we went for a water break I was sweaty and bruised. The water cooler was surrounded by a mob of equally sweaty kids. I took a nice, long drink of water, which made me feel a little better, but not by much.

Reluctantly, I walked back to the centre of the arena where Luke was standing. "Alright everyone, circle around!" Luke said, "Pythia and I are going to demonstrate a disarming technique." Oh no, I thought, this is not going to end well.

My cabin mates crowded around, probably not for the lesson, but for the chance to watch a newbie get owned.

"This is tricky." He stressed. "I've had it used against me before. So, no laughing at Pythia. Sword masters have to work years to master this technique."

He demonstrated the move on me in slow motion. Sure enough, my sword fell out of my hand and clattered to the floor.

"Now in real time," he said as I picked up my sword. "We'll keep sparring until one of us successfully uses the technique. Ready, Pythia?"

I nodded and Luke came at me. I was having a better time keeping up with his attacks. I countered quite a few of them, but I couldn't make any head ground of my own. I was stuck on defense. So, I decided to give it a shot, Luke would eventually make his way past my defence, no matter what I did.

I tried the disarming maneuver.

My blade hit the base of Luke's and I twisted. Trying to put my weight into the attack, but it wasn't enough to knock it out of Luke's grip.

Luke stopped anyways. "That's good Pythia," he said. "You just need to put a bit more pressure into it and it would work. That's a lot better than I did on my first try at this."

Then he went back into action, quickly knocking the sword out of my hand.

The crowd cheered, and broke out in talking.

"Alright you lot!" Luke said, "Go off and practice it yourselves!"

He turned back towards me and looked at me thoughtfully.

After what seemed like minutes he finally said. "I wonder what you could do with balanced sword."

Friday afternoon I sat with Grover on the pier, resting after another experience with the climbing wall.

Grover was fine, he scampered to the top like the half-goat he was (I'm thinking some type of mountain goat). On the other hand, I nearly got burned by the lava. As it was my arm hairs were singed and my shirt had a few new holes in it.

I stared at the naiads in the water weaving baskets. I wanted to ask Grover how his conversation with Mr. D went, but I wasn't sure how to. Eventually I decided to just go out and ask.

His face turned a putrid shade of yellow.

"Fine," he said. "It went just fine."

"Grover please, din't lie to me." I said.

He sighed, and looked out across the lake. Unable to stare me in the eyes. Had it really gone so bad?

"I didn't get fired but… I have to prove my courage to the council. They're suspending judgement on me. So, when you go on your first quest, I have to go with you. If we successfully complete it and we both come back. Then they'll consider this assignment a success and I get my searchers license."

"Well, that's not that bad. I hardly no anyone here so if I went on a quest I'd ask you to come anyway. What's so bad about going on a quest with me?"

"The chances of you getting a quest are… Well, he might as well have assigned me to kitchen duty. Atleast then I might be of some use to somebody."

"Oh come on Grover, you're really helpful!" I said, but he didn't seem to believe me.

"Right," he said solemnly, staring out into the water. "Basket-weaving… Must be nice to have a useful talent."

I tried to reassure him that he had lots of talents, but he would have none of it. It only served to knock him further into his funk. I decided to just let it go, Grover would think what he would think and I couldn't change that with a few words. We talked about swordplay and canoeing for a while, then debated the pros and cons of each of the gods. Then, I asked him about what happened the last time he went to pick up a demigod and bring them to camp.

He looked really unsure.

"Look you don't have to tell me if you don't want to." I said

"No, no," he looked me in the eyes, his face darkening. "After world war 2 the big three swore to not have any more demi-god children."

I nodded my head, "yeah, I know, Chiron told me."

Grover suddenly looked really sad, "Seventeen years ago, Zeus fell off the wagon. There was this eighties TV starlet with big fluffy hair-he just couldn't help himself. Then he had a daughter, her name was Thalia. The river Styx… which they swore their oath upon… it doesn't take kindly to broken oaths. Zeus got off easy because he;s immortal, but Thalia… It brought a curse upon her.

"But it's not her fault. The child doesn't control who their born to."

Grover hesitated. "Children of he big three have great powers Pythia. Stronger than other half-bloods. Because of this they have a stronger aura, a sort of scent that attracts monsters. Hades wasn't too happy when he heard of Zeus' broken oath. So, he sent his worst monsters after her. A satyr was assigned to be her keeper when she was twelve and guide her to camp half-blood."

"You."

"Yes," he sighed. "But I couldn't do anything. Annabeth and Luke were with her. They had been travelling around for a while together. All of them had bad experiences with their parents and had run away. We got as far as that hill over there." He pointed across the valley to the pine tree where I'd fought the Minotaur and first come into camp. I stared at the pine tree, had they put that there after what happened as a sort of memorial?

"We were confronted by a horde of hell-hounds and all three kindly ones. They were about to surround us when Thalia told me to take the other two and run. She was wounded and tired and she didn't want to live like a hunted animal. She made her final stand on that hill, all alone." He started to cry. "As she lay dying, Zeus took pity on her and turned her into the pine tree you see, forming an invisible barrier so that no monster could ever get into camp. To this day Thalia's spirit protects the valley. That's why we call it half-blood hill."

All I could do was wrap my arm around Grover and stare at the tree.

The story made me feel hollow. A girl my age had sacrificed herself. She faced a whole army of monsters and because of her this entire valley was truly safe. Was that the fate of all of us demigods? To die at the hands of some monster so that others could live another day? To be cursed by the actions of our parents? To forever be hunted until we breathe our last breathe? Unable to leave this camp in fear of being hunted?

My face must have reflected my thoughts because Grover said, "It's not all that bad, that stuff usually only happens to children of the big three. Which you probably aren't."

"You're right," I smiled at him, life couldn't be all that bad as a demigod. "Thanks Grover, I don't know what I'd do without you."

"Constantly hang around Chiron since he's the only other person you somewhat know about here at camp, and make all the other campers think you're wack?"

I laughed Grover always knew what to say, "Probably."

After dinner there was a lot more excitement then usual.

Tonight was capture the flag.

When the plates were cleared away, the conch horn sounded and we stood up at our tables. There was screaming and cheering as Annabeth and two of her siblings ran into the pavilion carrying a silver banner. It was maybe ten feet tall, glistening grey, with a painting of a owl on it. From the opposite direction, Clarisse and two of her friends came running in carrying an identical banner, except it was blood red and was painted with a boar's head and a spear.

Turning to Luke I yelled over the noise, "Those are the flags?"

"Yeah."

"Do Athena and Ares always lead the teams?"

"Often, but not always." He said.

"So, if another cabin captures the flag, do you repaint it every time?"

He grinned. "You'll see, but first we have to get one."

"Which side are we on?"

"We've made a temporary alliance with Athena. Tonight, we get the Ares flag." Apparently privileges had been traded-chore schedules, shower times, the best activity slots-to win support.

Athena allied with Hermes and Apollo, the two biggest cabins. Ares had allied with everyone else: Dionysus, Demeter, Aphrodite and Hephaestus. Dionysus' kids seemed to be good athletes but there were only two of them. Demeter's children had the advantage in nature, but they weren't very aggressive. Aphrodite's kids wouldn't be much trouble. They mostly sat around gossiping and doing their make-up. Now Hephaestus' four kids were a problem, they were big and strong from working in the forge all day. I did not want to go up against them.

That left the Ares cabin, the biggest, baddest, smelliest, nastiest kids in camp, no Long Island, or better yet the world. And of course, battle is their strong suite. Not to mention I had already pissed them off with the toilet incident. Yeah, if I came across an Ares camper I was screwed. Big time.

Chiron hammered his hoof on the marble.

"Heroes!" he announced. "You know the rules. The boundary is the creek. The entirety of the forest is fair game. Any magic items are allowed. The banner must be clearly displayed and can only have two guards at most. Prisoners can be disarmed but are not allowed to be bound or gagged. Remember no killing or maiming is allowed. I will serve as battlefield medic and referee. Arm yourselves!"

He spread his hands and the table in front of him was suddenly filled with swords, daggers, ox-hide shields covered in metal, helmets, everything you needed to do a medieval battle re-enactment.

"Wait," I said. "We're supposed to use these?" I gestured to the shields which were about the size of a door.

Luke stared at me like I was crazy. "Unless you want to be turned into souvlaki. Here-Chiron thought these would fit. You're on border patrol."

I struggled to lift my shield, it felt like it weighed a million pounds. Seriously, the thing was huge, it could have fit two of me under it. On the front with was an equally big caduceus.

As with everyone on Athena's side my helmet had blue plumes. The Ares team had red.

"Blue team, forward!" Annabeth yelled.

We gave a war cry, crashing our weapons against our shields, and followed her down the path to the south woods. Behind us, Clarisse did the same and they headed towards the northern woods.

I somehow managed to catch up to Annabeth without tripping over my shield. "Hey."

She looked at me then kept marching.

"So, what's the plan?" I asked. "Do you have any tips?'

"Just watch Clarisse's spear." She said. "If it touches you, you'll get a nasty shock. Otherwise, there isn't anything too much you should worry about. We'll take the banner from Ares. Has Luke given you your job yet?"

"Yeah, border patrol."

"Good, keep the reds away and leave the rest to me." She said, pushing forward, leaving me in the dust.

"Gee thanks," I mumbled. "Glad you wanted me on your team."

The night was especially warm and sticky, or maybe that was just the armour. It was dark out, the fireflies looked like little stars, popping in and out from behind the trees. Annabeth had stationed me beside a creek that gurgled over some rocks, then she and the rest of the team had scattered away.

Standing there, with my big blue-feathered helmet and massive shield, I felt like I was being punk-ed. As if I were part of some fraternity initiation ceremony, like you see in the movies, where they make an utter idiot if the initiate. I stood there, with my seriously off balance bronze sword in my hand (I mean come on, I would have an easier time using a bowling ball).

I really hoped no one would attack me. They'd cross the creek at another point, right? Better to avoid conflict and save your strength for later, right?

I nearly jumped out of my shoes when I heard the conch sound. Man was I getting myself overly worked up.

A blue-feathered ally from Apollo streaked past me like a deer, leaped through the creek and disappeared into enemy territory.

Yep, I thought, college frat initiate, complete with being assigned the job nobody wants.

Then I heard a sound that sent a chill up my spine, a low canine growl, somewhere nearby.

Instinctively, I raised my shield. I felt like something was watching me from the shadows.

Suddenly, the growling stopped, and the presence seemed to retreat.

Across the creek the underbrush exploded. Revealing five Ares warriors charging out of the dark, weapons ready.

"Cream the punk!" Clarisse roared, glaring at me through her helmet. She brandished her five-foot long spear, its barbed metal tip flickered with red light. I had a feeling she had come for revenge. Not that I could blame her, but even though her siblings wielded regular bronze swords I wasn't reassured in the least.

They charged across the stream. All I could do was get into a defensive stance and brace for impact. I was all alone against half the Ares cabin. Not a position I want to be in.

I managed to dodge the first kid's swing, but that put me right into the other guy's path. I back-stepped from his lunge only to find myself surrounded.

"You're done for punk," Clarisse said. She grinned like a cat about to eat a bird, bringing her spear's tip close to my head.

"Chiron said no maiming, remember?" I said, nervous at how close their weapons were to me, and the malicious looks on their faces.

She just laughed, "I'm not afraid to go a week without desert. Now you, you should be afraid."

What? I thought, I couldn't believe my ears. What was Chiron thinking? A week without desert s the punishment you give to a misbehaving three year old. Not a thirteen year old demigod after maiming another camper! If I survived this, I was going to have some serious words with Chiron.

I took another look at the gleaming electrified blade at the end of Clarisse's spear.

Emphasis on the 'if.'

"Grab her guys." Two of the kids roughly grabbed my arms. The pressure caused my sword to fall from my grasp. Another kid pulled my shield away. I was shoved into kneeling.

Clarisse smirked. "Look at me." She said.

I refused, I'm not exactly the type to just roll over and sit. Instead I continued staring at the ground. I could hear the crunching of the river rocks as Clarisse approached.

"I said look at me!" She snarled.

My head jerked as my ponytail was roughly grabbed from behind. Causing me to stare Clarisse straight in the eyes.

"Why are you doing this? The flag is right over there, free for you to grab." I said.

She crouched down and grabbed my chin, "because you made a fool out of myself and the Ares cabin, and now you have to pay." Her nails stung as they dug into my chin and cheeks, no doubt drawing blood.

Clarisse stood up and readjusted her grip on the spear, ready to give me a good cut with it. She pulled her arm back and I closed my eyes waiting for the pain to hit.

A hair raising growl caused all of us to freeze. For what seemed like minute the only sound I could hear was the pumping of my blood. It seemed even the stars were quiet. The world had gone dead silent.

I realized this was my only chance to get away from Clarisse and her minions. I suddenly jumped up, causing the guys holding my hair and arms to stumble backward, and rushed past Clarisse.

However, I didn't get away scot-free. True to her reputation as a daughter of Ares, Clarisse immediately sprang into action and caught me in the back with her spear just as I passed her.

The electric shock vibrated through me. I nearly bit my tongue as I stumbled face first into the creek. My entire body felt numb and tingly, the breath had been knocked out of me.

Until it suddenly… wasn't, I felt a surge of energy rush through me. As if I had a bagful of double-espresso jelly beans from my Mom's work.

I scrambled around, turning to face Clarisse and her cabin mates.

"Oh, now you've done it, sewer girl." Clarisse said, cracking her knuckles as she readied to pound them into my face.

I was about to make a witty come back, probably o point out that it was in fact her that got covered in toilet water, when suddenly Clarisse's face turned white as a sheet.

"Pythia, behind you." Clarisse said quietly.

"What? What's wro-"

A piercing growl cut me off. I jumped and ran forward towards Clarisse and the others. I nearly slipped on the wet stones as I fished for my sword. Eventually I grabbed it and I wheeled around to see whatever made that growl. That when it saw IT.

On the other side of the stream, prancing the treeline was a big black beast. Almost like a rabid dog, with glowing red eyes.

It snarled at us.

"What is that?" I asked Clarisse, fear running through me.

"A hell-hound."

"What? How did it even get in here? I thought camp was safe!"

"It is. Someone had to have summoned it. It couldn't have gotten in otherwise." Clarisse said. She tried to appear brave but you could hear in her voice that she was freaking out.

"So now what do we do?"

Clarisse opened her mouth to say something, but I could tell she didn't know what. She just stood there, unable to decide.

Unfortunately, the hell-hound decided for us. It suddenly charged across the stream, barking and growling.

It broke through our defence, catching one of the guys in the arm with its claws. It nearly got another one but a knife stopped it.

"Annabeth!?" Clarisse yelled. "How long have you been here for?"

"I was watching you the entre time!" She yelled, dodging a bite from the hell-hound.

"And you didn't help until now?" I said.

"I'm helping now!" She said, slashing at the beast. It suddenly ran past her and charged at the rest of us.

We tried our best to cause it damage but none of us could land a solid hit. It was way faster than you would think a beast of that size would be.

Clarisse and Annabeth shared a look. Despite being worst enemies, they seemed to know each other very well and could co-ordinate attacks on the fly. Conveying attack plans with just a look. Unfortunately, the rest of us didn't share that ability and got in the way more often than not.

Annabeth swung around wide, to try and get the beast from behind while Clarisse distracted it from the front. The hell-hound was having none of that, however, and lashed out with its claws, hitting Annabeth in the side and knocking her back almost 5 metres. She landed in the stream with a groan.

"Annabeth!" I yelled, and rushed forward to help her. She had landed on a big rock, and was bleeding very bad from the claw wound. It had pierced straight through her chest plate, shredding the metal to bits.

"H-hi Thia." Annabeth gasped, lifting her bloody hand in a meek wave, "Tell me, its looks pretty bad, right?"

"N-no," I lied. "Y-you're going to be fine." I said, the shouts and clashes from the fight a few feet away seemed to fade into the background as I look at Annabeth face.

She's dying, I thought.

She started to violently cough, a bit of blood came up. It only took one look at the grime expression on her face to tell that Annabeth knew she was dying.

"You aren't going to die." I said, placing my hand on her wound to try and slow the bleeding. She winced.

"Pythia…" She said.

"No. You're not going to die. Do you hear me? You're going to make it through this."

The look she gave me said she didn't believe me one bit.

"No, you're not going to die! You're not going to die!" I cried. A tingly feeling flashed through my gut. Then it turned into a pulling feeling, and I clenched my eyes shut in pain. I felt like I was going to throw up.

I could only hear Annabeth's struggling last breathes. Why? I thought, Why Annabeth? Hat did she ever do to deserve this fate? She was a nice person from what I had seen so far. So why does she have to die?

Eventually, Annabeth's gasping faded away. All I could do was curl in on myself and cry. My first friend at this camp was dead, and I couldn't save her. I couldn't even bear to look at her.

"Pythia?" Annabeth's shocked voice rang though my ears. My eyes shot open and I stared at her.

"Annabeth?" I said. I thought I was seeing things. One second Annabeth was dying, and now her wound was completely gone!

"What happened? I thought you were…"

"Me too!" She said, "Pythia, what did you do?"

"What did I do?" I asked incredulously, "All I did was cry over you as you were dying.

"No," she said. "You suddenly tensed up and the water it-it." She stared at me with wide eyes.

"Did what? The water did what?" I asked. She just gaped at me.

A scream of victory broke out to the left of us. We turned to see Luke jumping over the stream, maybe ten metres away from where Clarisse was battling the hell-hound.

Oh gods, I thought, Clarisse…

While I had been freaking out over Annabeth, Clarisse and her cabin mates had continued battling the hell-hound. Two of them were on the ground, having been hit much like Annabeth was. The three remaining standing didn't look much better. Clarisse herself had a nasty looking gash on her forehead.

"We need to help them." I said, pulling Annabeth up. Grabbing our weapons we charged forward, determined to help.

We were beat to the punch. As soon as we had gotten a couple metres and arrow whizzed out of the woods and struck the hell-hound in the head. It collapsed into a pile of golden dust.

Clarisse stood there, trying to catch her breath.

"Clarisse are you okay?" I asked.

She nodded her head. "Yeah, but they aren't doing do well," she pointed to the two unconscious Ares campers. "What about- Annabeth!?" Her jaw dropped as she stared at Annabeth and her healed wound.

Everyone seemed to catch up with us at this point. "What happened here?" Chiron said.

"It was a hell-hound. It appeared out of nowhere and attacked us." Clarisse responded, leaning on her spear. She looked a little tired, but at the same time energized from the battle.

"These two need medical attention!" An Apollo camper said from over by the two seriously wounded campers.

"Wait! Put them in the water!" Annabeth said. "What!" The Apollo camper looked at her like she was insane. "Just do what I said!" She turned to look at me.

"Thia do you think you could heal them like you did me?"

"Um, yeah, I guess…"

"Good."

I kneeled beside one of the fallen campers and tried to do what I did before with Annabeth. The water moved to cover the wound and I closed my eyes.

Come on, I thought, please work. As I waited there, trying to re-enact what I did I started to have doubts. Maybe what happened before was just a fluke, or maybe it wasn't me and Annabeth was wrong?

At the same time I knew I had to do this. The two campers were so seriously wounded they'd probably die before they managed to get them back.

That's when I felt it, the pull in my gut. It wasn't as bad as before, then again his wounds were not as bad as Annabeth's were. Everyone went eerily silent. The only noise came from the creek bed itself and the breathing of my patient.

Then came the oohing and aahing, as the wound slowly healed itself. When I had finished I was extremely tired and a little dizzy, but I knew I had to save the other boy too. So I dragged my way over to him and began to heal him. The dizziness slowly increased but I pushed on. I could begin to hear muttering from the crowd of how could she do this and oh my gods look at his wound it's healing, but I pushed it away and further focused on healing him. Suddenly the whispering stopped. As if everyone were stunned by something.

What happened this time? I thought, trying to figure out why they were quite again. They just saw me heal the other guy so it couldn't have been something I did right.

I would have asked something but the dizziness had become too much and I could feel myself begin to sway. The last words I heard before I passed out were 'All hail Pythia, daughter of Poseidon, god of-"

Wait, I'm the daughter of Poseidon?


	9. I Receive my First Prophecy

**disclaimer: I don't own Percy Jackson and the Olympians!**

Chapter 9: I Receive my First Prophecy

When I woke up I found myself in the infirmary. Again.

I groaned, "What happened?"

"You over extended your powers and exhausted yourself. It was actually rather touch and go for a while there. I wouldn't recommend doing what you did again."

I looked up and saw a boy. He was a few years older than me and had a stethoscope wrapped around his neck. Based on his sunny blonde hair and the fact he was manning the infirmary I guessed he was a child of Apollo.

He began to check me over, making sure I didn't have a concussion, asking if I hurt anywhere, that sort of thing. After a while he smiled at me. "Looks like you're good to go. Just make sure you take it easy. I'll tell the others that you're awake.

'Others?' I thought, 'what others?'

"Pythia!" I heard Grover say as he came running in.

"Grover," I croaked, my throat was feeling a little dry. "How are you?"

"How am I?" He asked. "How are you!? You're the one who's been unconscious for a day and a half!"

"That long huh?" I said.

"Yep, the whole camp's talking about it."

"Seriously?" I asked. It didn't seem like that big a deal. I just over-used powers I didn't even know I had until then. I hadn't learned how to control them yet. That had to happen a lot in a camp for half-bloods. Heck, it was probably a common occurrence. So, why was everyone talking about it?

"Yeah, it's not every day a child of the big three comes to camp. Let alone one that heals three demigods from wounds that should have killed them. Even if you only got the worst of the wounds on the last one. How did you do that anyway?"

"I-I don't know. I just saw them lying there and it- happened. Why do you look so surprised? Isn't this normal for children of Poseidon?"

Grover shook his head, "No, it's not. No child of Poseidon has ever had the ability to heal like that."

My eyes widened, if that was true then how had I done that? Why was I different?

"Then again, Lord Poseidon has only ever had male demigod children, you are the first girl. So, maybe it's normal for the girls and-" Grover tried to reassure me but it wasn't working. He was rambling, trying to list reasons for why I was perfectly normal. Well, for a demigod daughter of Poseidon, that is, but I knew better.

I had been different my entire life, from my fainting spells to my ability to hold my breath underwater for long periods of time. I thought that maybe in a camp full of demigods, a camp for the unusual, I would be normal. I was wrong. Somehow, I managed to be the odd one out yet again…

"Pythia, are you okay?" Grover's voice interrupted my thoughts.

"Yeah, I'm fine." I lied. In truth, I wasn't fine, but Grover didn't need to know that. I didn't want to worry him.

Grover made a sighing noise that sounded rather goat-like. "Pythia, satyrs can sense emotions. Now tell me what's wrong."

I didn't want to tell him. I turned to he dusty corner of the room, I knew if I saw his face… it would all come spilling out.

"Pythia, there's nothing wrong with you. Sometimes demigods unlock previously unseen powers. It's rare, yes, but not unheard of." A voice said from the doorway.

"Chiron!" I jumped and started wiping at my eyes. Not wanting him to see me cry.

"If you are feeling up to it I would like to show you your new cabin."

I nodded.

After a short (albeit filled with strange looks and whispering from the other campers) walk across the camp we finally made our way to cabin number 3. It was long and low, its walls looked like they had been dug up from the ocean floor, covered in sea shells and barnacles.

"Well," Chiron gestured. "Go on inside, your things have already been moved."

The inside looked like a cabin, but not like Cabin 11 did. No, this was more of a cabin by the sea type of thing, like at Montauk. There were a few sea-themed decorations scattered throughout, some rooms with bunk-beds, a washroom. Between two rooms was a fountain. It was pinkish, like it had been carved out of some smooth, pearly coral. The water spewing from its top misted as it fell down the pools.

I found my things beside one of the bunks. Looking around the cabin, I thought, maybe things won't be so bad. At the very least, I wouldn't have to worry about the Stoll brothers taking my things.

* * *

I was wrong. The next few days sucked. I was all alone in my cabin and even the lapping of the waves didn't help me get to sleep, I've never liked sleeping alone.

Okay, that came out a little wrong, I didn't like being the only person in a house, and the cabin was rather like a house. Whilst the privacy was nice, I didn't have to worry about waking anyone up with my midnight mumblings or my early bird-ness, it was also isolating. I didn't have anyone to enjoy camp with, not like the other kids did. Sure, they didn't outright avoid me, but I wasn't exactly invited to any parties either.

Believe it or not, I actually became excited for Clarisse's daily teasing of me. Some days, it was the most someone interacted with me, other than Grover.

I suppose some of that was my fault though. My sleep was plagued by… a nightmare, there's no other word for it.

Each night I would find myself on a beach, on one side of me was a city, sprawling and flat, the opposite of New York. On the other were two Greek wrestlers, one was wearing a sky-blue toga, the other a sea green one. The sea was in turmoil and the sky was storming, lightening booming. A wicked laugh would resound from below. I couldn't help but get the feeling that time was running out, there wasn't enough time. Something was coming, dark and corrupt, but I could never tell what.

Each night I would wake up after the nightmare to find myself standing up, my throat a little sore, and the first rays of sun hitting my face.

Today was different though, I woke up to the sound of hooves knocking on my door.

"Who is it?" I coughed, trying to get the last of whatever it was out of my throat.

"It's me Pythia," Grover said. "Can I come in?"

"Err, sure." I responded, quickly getting up and tossing the few stray clothes laying around the cabin into the hamper. I'm pretty sure Grover would die of embarrassment if he saw one of my bras strung up on the back of a chair. Not to mention I probably would too. Besides, boys didn't need to know that girls could be just as messy when unsupervised as they are.

"So, what's up?" I asked Grover once he came in. He looked nervous, fidgety, he wouldn't look me in the eyes. That was not a good sign.

"Mr.D wants to ki-, err… see you."

"Thanks Grover,: I said, crossing my arms. "Very reassuring." I glared at him, and he gave a weak grin.

"Might as well get this over with." I muttered and made my way out the door towards the big house.

Sooner rather than later we reached the front porch. Mr. D was standing in the doorway, arms crossed, waiting for us.

"Well, well, well." He said, "If it isn't our newest little big-shot?"

'Little big-shot?' I thought, 'doesn't that make the sentence somewhat redundant?'

"Come on in, but don't expect any special treatment from me just because old barnacle-beard is your daddy." Mr. D said sternly and a little mockingly.

Lightening crashed across the sky. Did I mention it was nasty out earlier? Well, either way, the skies looked like the heavens were ready to open up on us at the drop of a hat. One of the gods, Zeus probably, must be seriously angry.

Mr. D didn't see it as much of an issue though, he just rolled his eyes and mumbled a whatever. You know, the more I think about it (which really isn't much), Mr. D was less like a cherub who grew middle-aged in a trailer park and more like a teenager that got turned forty something, kind of like a reverse of that movie, what was it? Oh right, 'Seventeen Again.' Were all the gods like that, or just Mr. D?

"Now then," he said, "if I had my way I'd just combust you, we'd sweep away the ashes and we'd all be done with a lot of trouble. But Chiron here says that would be against my probation here at this dumb-ass camp: to keep you little miscreants from being harmed."

"Mr. D." Chiron said with a raised eyebrow.

"What?" he responded with a shrug. "Ass isn't a bad word, it's the name of an animal."

Chiron continued to glare. "It's still not appropriate to say around children, and need I remind you that spontaneous combustion is, in fact, a form of harm."

Mr. D huffed, "anyway, since I'm not allowed to do any alteration of your physical form. "He glared at Chiron." Your only other option is something that will likely see you maimed and killed. Now, I'm off to an emergency meeting in Olympus, you better not be here when I come back or I'm going to turn you into something anyway." He turned to Chiron. "Have fun sending her on that fool's errand of yours, I'm sure barnacles will be really happy with you when she dies." He gave a too-wide grin and left.

I gawked. "What was all that about?"

Chiron sighed, "sit down, both of you."

I shakenly found a seat. Grover sat down beside me.

Chiron set down his cards on the table, revealing a winning hand.

"Pythia," Chiron said. "Do you remember how you felt the night you came to camp, during your encounter with the minotaur?"

I paused, the night I came to camp…

"Or perhaps," he continued. "The fury during the field trip to the Natural History Museum? I know it was quite a while ago, but I've discovered that such things tend to sat with someone."

"I was afraid, I didn't know what to do. I-" I looked up at him. "Sir, what are you trying to get at?"

He looked me in the eyes. "You'll face the same, and much worse on your quest. That is, if you chose to accept?"

Beside me Grover had his fingers crossed. Why in the world would he have his fingers crossed?

I turned back to Chiron. "A quest? What quest? What exactly are you asking me?"

"The details are… difficult."

Thunder rolled through the valley. The storm had reached the beach. The sea and sky were churning roughly against each other.

It all clicked, Mrs. Dodds, my dreams, the storm, the sudden meeting Mr. D had to go to… "The gods are fighting, aren't they? Something's been taken, and they're fighting because of it."

Chiron leaned forward in his wheelchair. "Close. The gods aren't fighting, yet, but they're getting ready to… Pythia, I must ask, how did you know that?"

I flinched, I tried to hide it but based off the looks they gave me they saw. "I…" I couldn't tell them about my dreams, they were too close to my fainting spells. "I… "I looked down at the table, my bangs covering my face. "When I was fighting Mrs. Dodds, she mentioned something about something being stolen, and the weather's been weird for months. Then just earlier today, Mr. D had to go to an emergency meeting. Clearly something's up." I looked through my hair to see Chiron frown. He could tell I was keeping something from him. I felt my stomach churn like the waves outside, could hear my heart pumping in my chest.

Chiron leaned back into his seat. "Something is up, Zeus's lightening bolt has been stolen."

"By who?"

"By whom." Chiron corrected. "By you."

"What!" I jumped out of my seat. "How could I have taken it? I've never even been to Olympus. Why do you think-"

Chiron raised his hand. "Not I, Zeus. He suspects his brother, Poseidon had the bolt stolen. As you are his child, he believes you stole it."

"Why bring me into this? If Poseidon did take, well, couldn't he have taken it himself?"

Chiron shook his head. "The lightening bolt is Zeus' symbol of power. Another god cannot usurp it directly, the most ancient of divine laws forbid it. However, someone else can do it for them. Zeus thinks Poseidon convinced a mortal hero to do it."

"Why does he think Poseidon had it taken?"

"During the winter solstice Zeus and Poseidon had an argument. It was the usual nonsense: 'mother Rhea always loved me best,' 'sea storms are better than sky storms,' et cetera. Later when Zeus looked beneath his throne, his bolt was missing. Not to mention the cyclopes' forges were the bolt was made are under the sea. He fears Poseidon could have illegal copies made to use in a war against himself. On top of all of that, Poseidon has conspired to de-throne Zeus before…" He paused, waiting to see if I would fill in the gap.

"Umm, the golden net? He and some other gods trapped him under it, and wouldn't let out until he promised to be a better ruler?"

Chiron nodded. "He hasn't trusted Poseidon since. At first, he didn't know who took the bolt, but now that you have been claimed, he has his thief."

"I didn't do it."

"I know," Chiron said. "I was your teacher for awhile. I know you didn't know about any of this until well after the winter solstice, but Zeus does not care. He and Poseidon have been arguing for months, you're just the stray that broke the camels back."

"Poseidon, he didn't, he didn't actually take the bolt, did he?"

"Most thinking observers would agree that thievery isn't Poseidon's style, but he's too proud to try to convince Zeus of that, and none of the other gods want to get in between the two. They've both made ultimatums; Zeus wants the bolt returned by the summer solstice and Poseidon an apology from Zeus by the same date. I had hoped one of their sisters, Hera, Demeter, or Hestia, would make them see sense, but Poseidon claiming you now has shut that door. Now the only way for a full-fledged war between the gods to be stopped is if you go find and return the master bolt to Zeus."

"I take it a war would be really bad."

Chiron nodded, "A war between Zeus and Poseidon would disastrous. The world would be in chaos, nature fighting against itself. Destruction. Carnage. Millions, perhaps billions of dead. The west would be turned into a battlefield large enough to make the Trojan war look like a water balloon fight between seven year olds."

I winced.

"So, if Poseidon doesn't have the bolt, then where is it?" I asked.

"I believe I may know where it is, part of a prophecy I received many years ago… well, it makes sense now. However, before I tell you, you must receive your quest officially. You must go seek the counsel of the oracle."

I felt a cold chill run up my spine. "Is that really necessary?"

"It is, do not worry the oracle very rarely makes someone go insane."

"How reassuring." I said sarcastically. It wasn't my sanity I was worried about, although now I had that to worry about too.

"So, do you accept the quest?" Grover piped up.

I sighed, "I guess, it's better than being turned to dust, or the apocalypse."

"Then it's time you saw the oracle," Chiron nodded. "Go up the stairs, to the attic. Whe you come back down, we'll continue our conversation."

After four flights, I was met by a green door on the ceiling. I pulled the cord and it swung open, revealing the attic.

I climbed up the wooden ladder.

Inside the attic, it smelt of mildew and mothballs. As well as a smell I remembered from the zoo and biology class. Snakes.

Being in the attic, I couldn't help but feel out of place. Like I was somewhere I wasn't supposed to be. An intruder.

But I had to continue. I had to see the oracle. So, I wandered through the attic, walking past countless artifacts, souvenirs of past quests, I assumed.

Eventually, I found my way through the maze to the window. There sitting on a stool was a mummy, wearing clothes like she was a hippy from the 80s. Her eyes were glassed over, her body a sunken dried up black, her hair shriveled and barely there.

She had been dead for a very long time. Which was weird, because all the myths I had read described the oracle as being a living being, not… whatever this was.

Who knows, maybe she just died once they moved from Greece and they just changed her clothes once the last ones had rotted off.

I gulped and approached her.

"What's my fate?" I asked.

The oracle sat still.

"Hello?" I waved my arm in front of the Oracle's unmoving face, trying to elicit some reaction. "Is anyone in there?"

I stopped moving my arm and stared. "Guess not. What a waste of time this is. It looks like the oracle is broken. I'm going to have to tell Chiron."

I started to head back to the ladder, but just as I began moving away from the Oracle, a tight grip seized control of my arm, preventing me from moving it.

"What!?" Turning around I saw it was the Oracles hand that had grabbed my arm. "Let go!"

I struggled, but for a mummified corpse the Oracle had an iron-strong grasp.

"What are you doing?" I asked.

Oracle's eyes glowed green and I gasped, her mouth opened to speak. An eerie green mist bubbling out and surrounding the room. I tried to move away but my arm was still stuck. I couldn't help but let the cold mist wash over me, sending tingles through-out my entire body, like when your foot falls asleep and you move it. Only less painful and way more cold.

"I am the Oracle of Delphi. Speaker of the prophecies of Phoebus Apollo, slayer of the mighty Python. Come, seeker, and speak."

"W-what about my quest?" I asked. I really wished someone had warned me about how damn creepy the Oracle was, and the arm-grabbing, that was definitely on my list of 'need-to-know before you visit the Oracle.'

The oracle's eyes flashed green, and she spoke again. Only this time her voice echoed, like in a duet.

Then I realized it wasn't just the Oracle speaking…

I was too.

'You shall go west and face the god who has turned,

You shall find what was stolen and see it safely returned,

You shall be betrayed by one you thought as friend,

And you shall fail to save what matters most, in the end.'

The Oracle's mouth snapped shut and my arm was released. I gasped for breath as the green mist dissipated.

What was that? Was this what normally happened when you went to visit the Oracle? I looked back at the now lifeless Oracle, and something told me that what had just happened was far beyond usual. Something was going on, but not for the first time since I came to camp I was unsure of what it was.

"Pythia!" Chiron yelled from the ladder. "Are you alright up there?"

"Yeah!" I said.

With my throat feeling like I had just shouted at the top of my lungs for an hour, I climbed back down the ladder to where Chiron was waiting.

"So, how did it go?" He asked. "What did the Oracle say?"

"She said that I'd go west and faced the god that turned. That I'd find what was stolen and return it, and-" I stopped, unsure if I should continue. The last thing she had said seemed… personal, somehow.

"And what, Pythia? What else did she say?" Chiron pressured.

"She said that I'd have to look out for a friend. That's all." I lied. Well, not really. Technically speaking I did have to watch out for a friend. A friend who would betray me.

Chiron didn't seem to believe me. The guy must have some sort of lying radar. That or I'm a bad liar.

"Just remember Pythia," he gave me a stern look. "Prophecies do not always make sense until they come to pass. There are filled with riddles and confusion at the best of times. People have wasted many years trying to divine the meaning of a prophecy only to find out what they thought it meant was completely wrong. Sometimes, it is best to just keep your guard up and let life play out as it is fated to do."

He sighed, "Anyhow the oracle said something about going west to face a god who has turned?"

I nodded. "Yeah, and that's where I'll find the lightning bolt."

Chiron frowned slightly as he thought about it. "It would seem that Hades has stolen the lightning bolt. He is the only god to the west and this may be something he would do."

"Why? Why would Hades want the bolt?"

"Because it would start a war amongst the gods my dear. If such a war were to break out it would provide the perfect chance for Hades to rise out of the Underworld and take control over Olympus. Something I fear he has wanted for many centuries."

"So how do I fight him?"

Chiron shook his head. "That I do not know. Though I would recommend avoiding a fight if at all possible. Hades is not the god of the underworld for nothing. He is one of the big three and very powerful."

Just then Grover trampled up the stairs. "Pythia, you're okay! Wait, you are okay, right?"

"Yeah," I replied, giving him a small smile to reassure him.

"So, what did I miss?" Grover asked.

"I'm going west. It's most likely Hades has the bolt."

Grover's face bleed white. "H-hades,' he swallowed. "The Hades?"

"Yes."

"A fury did come after her, Grover," Chiron said. "She waited, and when she was sure of who Pythia's father was, she attacked. The furies have only one master: Hades."

"Yeah, but Hades hates all demigods." Grover replied. "Especially if he found out about Thia's father."

"A hellhound got into the forest."

"Anyone could have summoned that!" Grover objected.

"You're right," Chiron replied. "However, hellhounds can only be summoned from the fields of punishment. Hades likely has a spy within camp, something I'll have to investigate once Pythia starts her quest. I may not perfectly understand Hades motives, or why he chose to start a war now, but it is clear why he would prefer Pythia dead."

"Because I might clear my father's name?" I guessed.

Chiron nodded.

"B-but there? Why did it have to be there? Why not Maine? I hear Maine is really nice this time of year." Grover stuttered.

"The underworld is Hades' domain, and so an obvious choice for him to hide the bolt from his brother. Pythia must go there to retrieve the master bolt and reveal the truth."

Worry and fear made my stomach seem to plummet like a stone. The underworld was serious business, I could probably name on one had the number of heroes known to have left!

Grover didn't look any happier than I did. He was trembling, and going through pinochle cards like a paper shredder.

"Grover, you don't need to come if you don't want to." I said.

Grover paused in his munching. "I do if I want to get my searcher's licence," he gulped, then proceeded to eat the cards even quicker.

I felt bad. Grover wouldn't have needed to go on this quest if not for me. Another demi-god wouldn't have the minotaur after them, and they could've come to camp without incident. Instead, Grover got hurt trying to protect mom and I and because of that he needed to go on a quest to get his searcher's licence.

"Okay, so we're going to the underworld, finding that bolt and bringing it back to Zeus?" I recalled.

"Yes," Chiron replied.

"So, I apologize if this sounds dumb but, where exactly is the underworld?" I asked.

"In the west," Chiron supplied.

I raised an eyebrow and waited for him to continue.

He sighed, "Los Angeles." His voice sounded clipped.

"Thank you," I tried to not be sassy but I think it still came out a little rude. "So, last I checked, Los Angeles was across the country, how are we going to get there?" I really hoped he didn't expect me to have money to pay for a plane ticket. I didn't even have enough money to get a phone. Actually, how do demigods get around for their quests, was there some sort of fund for travel expenses, or were we expected to just rough it out? If we were expected to just rough it out I could see why Mom didn't want to bring me here, it clearly wasn't very responsible for the children it takes care of, and that's without taking into consideration that they sent children on quests, unsupervised. Wait, we are going unsupervised, right? That's how Chiron made it sound anyway.

"-thia? Pythia?" Grover was waving his hand in front of my face.

"Hmm? Oh, sorry, were you saying something?" I apologized, wincing. I hated when I fainted, but I really hated when I spaced out, mostly because the spacing out thing was my fault.

Chiron grumbled. "Anyhow, you'll be travelling overland. The sky is Zeus' domain and I wouldn't recommend a child of Poseidon to enter it on a good day, let alone in the current climate. You would never come down alive."

Outside, lightning crackled. Thunder boomed.

"Right," I sheepishly smiled. "Overland sounds good."

"You'll be traveling with two companions. One is Grover and another has volunteered, if you will have her."

"Who would volunteer for this death trap?" I asked.

The air behind Chiron shimmered.

Annabeth appeared, with her baseball cap in hand. "That would be me, I've been waiting a long time for a quest. There's no way I'm sitting this out, even with our parents' rivalry."

"You heard all that we just talked about?" I asked her.

She nodded.

"Well, if you still want to come… sure, you know more about this kind of thing than I do anyway."

She grinned.

"And there's our trio," Chiron announced. "This afternoon, we'll take you as far as the Manhattan bus terminal, but after that you're on your own."

Lightening lit up the meadow, and the rain began to pour. Surprised campers yelled as they suddenly got drenched. It was raining in the meadow that was supposed to only get good weather.

Chiron looked at the sky. "There's no time to waste, I think you all should start packing."

* * *

 **So, long time no update. Seriously, this chapter took a year for me to write (it's called a boring-ish chapter, creative block, migraines, and school deciding to descend upon me). Anyhow, sorry. I'm currently writing the next chapter and hopefully I can get that out in the next couple of weeks.**

 **Maybe, after I've written a more of this, I'll look at some of the little scribbles of fic ideas I have on my computer and put some of those up, but for know I'm going to focus on this fic because you guys have been waiting so long for an update.**

 **PS here's a question for all of you: when you think of Grover, do yu imagine him looking similar to how he does in the movies, or how the official art work pictures him, or do you imagine him looking a different way? Tell me in the comments!**


	10. Myself, a Bus, and Hades' Minions

Chapter 10: Myself, a bus, and hell's minions (or rather Hades')

 **disclaimer: I don't own PJO**

* * *

Packing didn't take long. Grover had found me a backpack from, somewhere, which I used to stuff my things into: a change of clothes, a toothbrush. Not much, I know, but other than the minotaur's horn I didn't really have anything else.

The camp store loaned me a hundred dollars and twenty gold drachmas, which were about the size of a girl scout cookie, and had the image of the Empire State building on one side and various Greek gods on the other. Chiron told me that ancient mortal drachmas had been silver and somewhat smaller, save for a few from the time after Alexander the Great, but the Olympians never used less than pure gold in their coinage.

I wasn't exactly sure how I was going to pay back that loan.

Chiron then gave Annabeth and me a canteen of nectar each and a Ziploc bag stuffed with little ambrosia squares. He told us they were for emergencies only, like if we were seriously hurt. They weren't made for mortals, Chiron reminded us. It would heal pretty much any injury, but too much was lethal to anyone without godly blood. Even demigods, if given too much, would die.

Annabeth had with her a magical Yankees cap. A present from her mom, she told me, for her twelfth birthday. She also carried a book in Ancient Greek on famous architecture, in case she got bored, and a long bronze knife was shoved up her sleeve. She called it a kopis. I wasn't sure if that was the latest in demigod fashion or what but it was definitely step one in becoming the Indiana Jones of architecture.

Grover was wearing pants, fake feet and a green Rasta-style cap to look human. The cap was necessary in case it rained, the tips of his horns would be just visible through his curly hair. His backpack, which was a bright, almost garish, orange (like our camp shirts) was packed to the brim with apples, scrap metal, and who knows what else for snacking. He had a set of reed pipes his daddy goat had carved for him in his back pocket. I figured he brought it so he could practice during the trip.

Apparently, the last time he had practiced within the camp some of the Apollo campers had madehim swear to never practice within 50 metres of the cabins again. Then the next time he practiced the dryads made him promise to ever practice within the woods in camp, meaning if he wanted to practice he either had to hitch a canoe ride, or leave camp.

Annabeth down right grimaced when she saw the pipes.

We took once last look at the camp: the ocean, the woods, the strawberry fields, the big house, and waved good-bye to the campers. Then, we hiked up half-blood hill to Thalia's tree, where Chiron was waiting for us in his wheelchair, which confused me. He wasn't coming with us, was he?

Beside Chiron was a tall guy in a chauffeur's uniform. Grover told me he was the head of camp security. He seemed to be covered in eyes, although I couldn't see the parts that his outfit covered up. I couldn't help but think that that must hurt when he sat down.

"This is Argus," Chiron told me. "He will drive you three into the city, and also, well, um, keep an eye, or six, on things."

I heard footsteps behind us.

Luke was running up the hill, holding a pair of basketball shoes.

"Wait!" he panted. "Good, I caught you in time."

Annabeth looked like a cat had caught her tongue. Which was odd, since normally she was quite opinionated. It seemed the only time she wasn't was when Luke, or some reasonable facsimile, was around.

"I just wanted to wish you good luck," Luke said. "And to give you these, they might come in handy."

He handed me the sneakers, which looked pretty normal. I couldn't tell why he thought I might need them though. The only thing they'd probably give me was some blisters, as they were several sizes too big.

Not that Luke seemed to notice. He just said. "Maia!"

Which is when I noticed that these shoes were actually awesome. They sprouted white bird wings on wither side of the heels. The jerked about so much I dropped them onto the ground, where they proceeded to flap about until the wings folded up and vanished.

"Awesome!" Grover said.

Luke grinned. "Yeah, they were helpful when I was on my quest. A gift from my Dad. Although, I don't have much use for them these days…" He frowned.

I didn't know what to do. Luke had come to help us out and see us off. I hadn't really seen him much since I was claimed, I thought he might have been avoiding me, guess I was wrong.

"Hey," I said. "Thanks."

"Thia…" Luke looked uncomfortable. "Everyone here, their hopes are riding on you. So… I guess I'm saying…don't fail? And, uh, kill some monsters for me."

I gave an uneasy smile. Yeah, this quest was fate of the world kind of stuff. Hard to forget.

Luke patted Grover's head, and hugged Annabeth good-bye, which she reciprocated with a squeak. Finally, he reached his hand out to shake mine. As my hand neared his, I felt a shock, like I had just gotten a jolt of static electricity.

I laughed, "Stoll brothers got to you with a balloon when you weren't looking?" I joked.

"Yeah, must of." Luke mumbled, running a hand through his hair.

I stared at my right hand, then Luke's retreating back. Why did I suddenly have a really bad feeling about all of this.

"Thia, are you gonna just stand there or are you going to get in here and come on this quest!" Annabeth yelled from the white SUV.

"Pythia," Chiron stopped me. "Luke meant well, but…"

"I wasn't going to wear them anyway. They're way too big for my feet." Then I got an idea.

"Hey, Grover. You want some new shows?"

"Heck yeah!" He yelled.

"Mr. Underwood." Chiron chided.

Grover gulped and apologized

A few minutes later we had the shoes laced up over Grover's fake feet, and Grover was ready for take-off.

"Maia!" he shouted.

The first foot up was okay, but then he lost balance and fell sideways, his backpack dragging across the grass. The shoes kicking about like Mexican jumping beans.

I winced, "At least he's heading in the right direction."

"Practice, Grover," Chiron yelled after him. "You just need practice!"

Grover just yelled in response as he continued towards the SUV like a possessed lawn mower.

Chiron stopped me before I could follow. "One last thing Pythia, I'm sorry."

I blinked in surprise.

"I should have trained you better," Chiron continued. "We don't even know the first thing about the extent of your powers, what they all are even! Perseus, Achilles, Theseus – they all had more training."

"It's okay, if- When I get back from my quest. I can find out more about my powers then."

"What am I thinking?" Chiron asked himself. "I can't let you leave without this."

He pulled a pen from his pocket and gave it to me. It looked like an ordinary ballpoint, black ink, removable cap.

I raised an eyebrow. "I'm assuming this does something…"

"Oh right." He said, and pulled of the cap of the pen.

Suddenly, I was holding a shiny bronze, double-edged sword, with a leather grip and stud riveted hilt. A xiphos.

"Woah…" I gasped.

"It was a gift from your father. He had me keep it safe for years, I wasn't sure who I was supposed to give it to, but I'm sure of it now. You are the one."

Chiron's expression soured. "That sword is called Anaklusmos, it has a long and tragic past that we don't have the time to get into at this moment."

I twisted and turned my hand to get a better look at the blade. I wondered who it's previous owner had been.

"Use it only for emergencies," Chiron said, "and only against monsters. Not that it could hurt mortals anyways, as it is made of celestial bronze, but either way a hero should never hurt an innocent bystander unless absolutely necessary."

"Wait, how can this not hurt mortals. I mean, look how sharp it is!" I pointed to the razor-sharp edge.

"It is made of celestial bronze. Forged by the Cyclopes, tempered in the heart of Mount Etna, cooled in the river Lethe. It will harm anything, ah, supernatural, I suppose you could say, but it will pass through mortals like an illusion. Also, as a demigod you are doubly vulnerable, both celestial and ordinary weapons can kill you. You must be careful."

"Well that's pleasant."

"Now recap the pen."

I did so, looking over the pen. It was light and plain-looking. I was worried I might lose it, I was infamous for losing pens at Yancy, after all.

"Do not worry," Chiron said, "it's enchanted. It will reappear in you pocket if you were to drop it." He must've had a similar thought as I did.

"Now then, you should probably catch up with the others. Annabeth is looking quite impatient."

Sure enough, Annabeth was pacing back and forth in front of the SUV, every once in a while, looking at a non-existent watch on her wrist.

By the time I got to the hill's bottom Chiron was in full-on centaur mode, holding his bow high in salute, wishing us good luck. Honestly, I was a little confused why he was in the wheel-chair in the first place.

Getting into the SUV, I couldn't help but find it odd that seeing him in the wheelchair felt a little surreal, not seeing him as a centaur. Just a couple weeks ago, I was freaking out over the fact my teacher was a centaur, and now seeing him and all the satyrs and nymphs… It was normal.

Argus drove us out into the city. The bus ride there was rather awkward. Nobody talked. Occasionally, Annabeth would stare at me, like she couldn't decide what to think about me. She did that a lot at camp too, though.

Once we were in Queens, traffic slowed us down. By the time we got to Manhattan it was sunset, and raining. Again.

Argus dropped us off at a Grehound station in the Upper East side, only a few blocks away from the apartment where I lived. I wondered how mom was doing. How was Gabe treating her? I hope he ywasn't making an ass out of himself, well, more than he already was, that is.

Argus unloaded out bags, made sure we got our tickets, then left us to wait for the bus. As he drove away, an eye on the back of his neck winked at us. It sent a shiver up my spine.

The wait for the bus was a long one, and it started to really pour before long. We huddled inside the waiting area, where there were benches, and more importantly, a roof. There we started up a game of hackey sack with one of Grover's apples.

Annabeth was awesome, she could bounce it off anywhere. Me? Not so much, but eventually I managed to bounce more often than drop it.

Unfortunately, our game ended when I accidentally bounced the apple too close to Grover's mouth. He swallowed it whole with one mega-goat bite.

Grover frantically apologized, but Annabeth ad I were too busy laughing our butts off.

After another hour or so the bus finally arrived. As we waited in line to board, Grover kept glancing and sniffing about.

"What's wrong?" I whispered to him.

"It's nothing." He replied with a nervous chuckle. He was lying, poorly.

Annabeth and I shared a look. He wasn't telling us everything.

I didn't relax until we got out seats, in the back of the bus. Even then, things were still tense. Annabeth continually slapped her cap against her knee.

"Thia." She froze, staring at the last passengers to board.

An old lady and her two sisters had boarded. They were all wearing wrinkled velvet dresses, lace gloves, carried big paisley purses and wore shapeless toques. The only difference between them was the colour of their hats. The first one wore orange, the next green, the other purple.

The lady in front lifted her head up, and I felt the blood drain from my face. It was Mrs. Dodds.

She was older than when I last saw her, but it was definitely her.

I tried to hide in my seat.

The trio sat down in the front row, right by the door. The two with aisle seats stuck their legs out, making an x.

I gulped and looked behind me. There was no emergency back door. We were stuck between a hard place and three grandmas from hell, literally.

The bus pulled out of the station and out onto the rain-slick streets of Manhattan.

"I thought she was gone." I whispered to Annabeth.

She shrugged. "Sometimes they're dead for centuries, others… Well, let's just say that you have bad luck."

"All three of them," Grover whimpered. "Di immortales."

"It'll be okay," Annabeth assured us, wincing in concentration. "The furies, the three worst monsters from the underworld, no problem. We'll just slip out through a window."

"They don't open." Grover moaned.

"A back exit?" She suggested.

"Nope." I responded, this situation was getting more hopeless by the second. "Will they attack us with witnesses around?"

"Perhaps. The mist… The people will only see what it will allow the to. We're not going to get any help that way."

"Great," I moaned. "Then news will have fun with this one. 'Three teens killed by psychotic grandmas on bus."

Grover whimpered, Annabeth glared.

"Sorry, too morbid?" I apologized.

We hit the Lincoln tunnel and the bus went dark except for the built in floor lights.

I tried to reassure myself, but I was scared. I flashed back to the time in the washroom. Mrs. Dodds screaming: 'where is it! Where is it?'

Wait a minute… 'where is it?' Why would she ask that? Unless… maybe Hades didn't have the master bolt. Maybe something of his was stolen too. Someone was trying to start a war of the gods, why not get the underworld involved as well.

"I'm going to go negotiate." I said, standing up from my seat.

"Wait, Thia!" Annabeth whisper shouted. She tried to grab my arm but I was already out of range.

"I can't look." I heard Grover mumble.

I stopped behind the two with their legs crossed. The trio bared their teeth and claws at me. I stood firm and tried to look confident. It was too late to second guess.

I placed m hands on my hips and looked at Mrs. Dodds. "Last time we met, you said you were looking for something. Only thing is, I've never taken anything from you or your master." I declared.

"She lies!" The sister in green hissed.

"Hey miss!" The bus driver interrupted. "You need to sit down."

Mrs. Dodds grumbled, but moved over.

I raised an eyebrow. "Thanks." I said sitting down.

"Tell me what it is you're looking for. Whoever stole it probably toke Zeus' master bolt as well."

The sister in purple snarled.

"Lord Hades' helm." Mrs. Dodds' voice was clipped.

I lifted my right hand in the air. "I swear, on the River Styx, that I did not take Hades' helm, or Zeus' master bolt, for that matter." Thunder boomed outside, but I remained unharmed.

Mrs. Dodds eyes widened in surprise. "She tells the truth."

"No!" The fury in green raged, only to be held back by her sister.

"Tisiphone." Mrs. Dodds scolded.

The fury, or Tisiphone as I just learnt, did something that seemed really odd on a granny that was secretly a millennium old monster. She pouted like a five-year-old.

As the three started to squabble, I felt a little awkward.

"So, I should probably get back to my friends now. They're probably worried." I said, but it didn't seem like they heard me. "Thank you."

Mrs. Dodds turned to look at me. "Good luck, Pythia Jackson."

I grinned, then headed back to where Annabeth and Grover were waiting for me.

"Hey guys." I said.

"Thia! What the Hades were you thinking!" Grover panicked. "Are you alright?"

"Yep!" I gave him a thumbs-up.

Annabeth had a look of contemplation on her face as she stared at me. "That was foolish." She scolded.

"Oh, thank goodness," Grover breathed. "They're leaving." I turned around and saw the furies leave. The bus driver not even noticing them.

Just as we exited the tunnel the bus suddenly swerved out of control, smashing into a guard-rail. I was glad I had sat back down, but even then, I slammed forward into the seat in front of me. The sound of cars honking and tires squealing filled the air.

"Ow," I moaned.

"Come on, we need to leave, quick." Annabeth said.

She and grover started to scramble out of their seats.

"Wait!" I said.

"What is it Thia?" Annabeth growled impatiently.

"The bags." I gestured to the bags still lying on the floor where they had left them.

We grabbed our nags ad left the bus. A few seconds after we had exited the bus burst into flames.

"Wow," Grover said. "It was a good thing you reminded us to grab our bags."

Annabeth huffed. "Now what do we do?"

"What the oracle said, west."


End file.
